"...How is it, I wonder, that a woman like you is so damned daft?"

Honestly. It confused him. There were some moments, around the house, where Effie's certainties shone. And she could make a decent roast, Sharpe decided. But he wondered how, even now, she could cling to the notion that anyone would be financing anything. Of course, if he only thought about it a moment longer, he would have remembered all the officers he'd met who were so daft about some things while being good at others.

He sighed. "Your audience has nothing to pay with, ma'am. And your Malnosso bastards don't need to bankroll anything if they care to see us fight. They only have to ship us off. And even if these things weren't true, the local population doesn't stomach violence well. You'd be better off doing what any other twisted entrepreneur does and get yerself some dogs..."

As a young boy, Sharpe had worked the dog fighting pits. It hadn't been a kind scene.