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“Sir Reynold,” [Sybil] said, with a side order of ice. “In the Year of the Louse, my great-grandmother once cooked, personally, a full dinner for eighteen in a military redoubt that was entirely surrounded by bloodthirsty Klatchians, and she felt able to include sorbet and nuts. My grandmother, in the Year of the Quiet Monkey, defended our embassy in Pseudopolis against a mob, with no assistance but that offered by a gardener, a trained parrot, and a pan of hot cooking fat. My late aunt, when our coach was once held up at bowpoint by two desperate highwaymen, gave them such a talking-to that they actually ran away crying for their mothers, Sir Reynold, their mothers. We are no strangers to danger, Sir Reynold. May I also remind you that quite probably half the dwarfs who fought at Koom Valley were ladies? No one told them to stay at home!”

– He’d claimed it was too dangerous for a lady at Koom Valley | Terry Pratchett, Thud!

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