" said one as Peter came in.

"Pass me," said another, and it struck Peter that he knew the tone.

The four were fairly absorbed in their game, but the orderly officer led
Peter towards the table. At that they looked up, and next minute one had
jumped up and was greeting him.

"By all that's wonderful! It's you again," he said.

"Donovan!" exclaimed Peter, "What: are you doing here?"

The South African held out his hand. "I've got attached to one of our
nigger outfits," he said, "just up the dock from here. But what are you
doing?"

"Oh, I've been moved from Rouen," said Peter, "and told to join up here.
Got to look after the hospital and a few camps. And I was told," he
added, "I'd live in this camp."

"Good enough," said Donovan. "Let me introduce you. This is Lieutenant
Pennell, R.E.--Lieutenant Pennell, Captain Graham. This is a bird of your
kidney, mess secretary and a great man, Padre Arnold, and this is one
Ferrars, Australian Infantry. He tried to stop a shell," went on Donovan
easily, "and is now recovering. The shock left him a little insane, or so
his best friends think; hence, as you may have heard, he has just gone
three hearts. And that's all anyone can do at present, padre, so have a
cigarette and sit down. I hope you haven't changed your old habits, as
you are just in time for a sun-downer. Orderly!"

He pulled up a large easy-chair, and Peter subsided into it with a
pleasant feeling of welcome. He remembered, now, having heard that
Donovan was at Havre, but it was none the less a surprise to meet him.

Donovan played a good hand when he liked, but when he was not meeting
his mettle, or perhaps when the conditions were not serious enough, he
usually kept up a diverting, unorthodox run of talk the whole time. Peter
listened and took in his surroundings lazily. "Come on," said his friend,
playing a queen. "Shove on your king, Pennell; everyone knows you've got
him. What? Hiding the old gentleman, are you? Why, sure it's myself has
him all the time"--gathering up the trick and leading the king. "Perhaps
somebody's holding up the ace now...." and so on.

Pennell played well too, but very differently. He was usually bored with
his luck or the circumstances, and until you got to know him you were
inclined to think he was bored with you. He was a young-looking man of
thirty-five, rather good-looking, an engineer in peace-time who had
knocked about the world a good deal, but hardly gave you that impres