The instinct to murder each other had returned.

They almost avoided each other.
They shared the same bedroom.

When they retired Dawes seemed abstract, thinking of something.

He sat on the side of the bed in his shirt, looking at his legs.
"Aren't you getting cold ?" asked Morel.
"I was lookin' at these legs," replied the other.
"What's up with 'em?
They look all right," replied Paul, from his bed.
"They look all right.

But there's some water in 'em yet." "And what about it ?" "Come and look." Paul reluctantly got out of bed and went to look at the rather handsome legs of the other man that were covered with glistening, dark gold hair.
"Look here," said Dawes, pointing to his shin.