Wellington:
I'd be obliged if you'd show that fellow Shellington around the camp. I can't spare another officer.

Sharpe:
Yes sir.

Wellington:
Oh, and Sharpe, you better brace yourself. He's a poet.

Sharpe:
Poet, sir? My wife will be delighted.

Wellington:
Really? Personally I'd rather call for the surgeon and have him cut off my goddamn foot with a saw.

Ross:
What are we going to do with him, Sharpe?

Sharpe:
Send him home, sir.

Ross:
Home? He'll need an escort.

Sharpe:
Send two of Brand's men back with him. They know the terrain. This is a perfect excuse for bringing Brand back.

Ross:
What if he doesn't want to go back to Wellington's camp?

Sharpe:
Oh, he'll want to, sir.

Jane:
Why would you follow him to the death?

Jane:
And with his wife. He trusts you with his wife.

Sharpe:
Harris, until this matter is resolved, you're my responsibility. Now while I'm on this mission, you will act as manservant to my wife.

Sharpe:
Harris, I'm posting you to my household as I would post you to a position on a battlefield.

Ross:
Did you see that, Harper?

Harper:
Who me, sir? No, I saw nothing, sir.

Ross:
Did you see what happened to Col. Brand?

Harper:
Oh, he's a funny fish, sir. I just saw him jump head-long into the wishing well. Why do you think he'd want to do something like that, sir?

Ross:
Thank you, Harper.