"Yes, poor devils! They had a fire every day in the hut, summer and winter. They never had a single one at sea. They like to sleep by it—they always did—all but Livingstone. He sleeps with me when he isn't on the loose."
"But you'll never be able to sleep in an atmosphere like this!"
Jack was cutting up a pipeful of his black tobacco.
"Well, it is warm," he admitted. "And now you mention it, I may find it a job to get asleep; but the cats like it, anyhow!" And he swore at them affectionately as he lit his pipe.
"Did you forget you'd left me downstairs?" asked Claude.
"Clean! I apologise. I took this idea into my head, and I could think of nothing else."
"May we have another window open? Thank you. I'll smoke one cigarette; then I must be off."
"Where to?"
"My chambers—to dress."
"To undress, you mean!"