But the tent was almost empty.

That at least proved that the tent belonged to Spence.

He was a man with an actual talent for bareness and spareness in his sleeping quarters.

Even his room at school had possessed that man-made neatness which one associates with sailor's cabins and the cells of monks.

The camp-bed was trimly made, a dressing-gown lay across a canvas chair, a shaving mug hung from the centre pole--there was not so much as a hairpin anywhere.
John crossed thoughtfully to the folding stand which stood with its portable reading lamp beside the bed.