"Got up just in time for the ball!" he shouted, as though it were a matter for the heartiest congratulation.
"Is there a ball?" inquired Philip, dismayed. What a superfluous question!
"Rather! The fancy ball of the season. Every soul in the place will be at it. Know many people up here?"
"Nobody—that I am aware of."
"Soon cure that complaint! Keen on dancing?"
"Not particularly; and dancing hasn't been exactly encouraged where I come from!" He thought grimly of desolate camps, of relief works, bare plains and stricken villages, of all the stress and the strain of the last year. What could be farther from festivity!
"Some beastly little station, I suppose," assumed his companion sympathetically. "If it wasn't for places like Surima we should all rot and die. I come from a hole sixty miles off the railway; only seven of us all told including the women; just a small hell upon earth. I put in for 'three months' urgent private affairs,' my only chance," he grinned. "Luckily they asked no awkward questions. Next week my leave's up, worse luck!"
He fell to eating dejectedly, but soon added in a hopeful tone: "Anyway, I'm going to enjoy my last hours. Now, if you want introductions remember I'm your man. No dog-in-the-manger about J. D. Horniblow!" He looked round the room. "Plenty to choose from if you're not over particular."
"Thanks, don't bother about me," said Philip indifferently. "Bed is more in my line than a ball to-night."