Getting dressed for dinner in front of Matthew was a heady mix of pain and pleasure. George had to constantly remind himself not to stare, when he’d have liked nothing better than to sit back and watch his friend undress.
As Matthew shed his shirt, George couldn’t help looking at the stump of his right arm. It was the first time he’d seen it unclothed.
“Not pretty, is it?” Matthew said wryly. Actually, it looked a great deal better than George had imagined, with very little scarring.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Not really. Well, not how you’d think. Sometimes I get sort of shooting pains, which just come out of nowhere, and sometimes I get the oddest feelings, as if there’s still a hand there. But the stump itself—no, that doesn’t really hurt. I know chaps with artificial legs can get blist
