I've a fair hand at cards--tough nerves, and even a bit of staying power.

Luck may turn my way yet and there's always the Pamirs! At the worst, the Russians--the Afghans,--or those fellows up in Sikkim and Hill Tipperah! An artillerist is always welcome there!" But even in his moral desperation, he hung his head, for a flush of his boyhood's bright ambitions returned to shame him.

An old song jingled in his memory, "When I first put this uniform on." He lapsed into a bitter reverie! The soldier of fortune was finally aroused from a brown study by the impassive steward presenting two great dishes.

The clatter of some late convive seating himself also caused him to turn his head.
"Hello, Anstruther! You are a long way from staff headquarters here!" quietly said Hawke, as the new arrival gazed at him in a mute surprise.
Captain the Honorable Anson Anstruther put up his monocle and duly answered: "I thought that you were still in Calcutta, Hawke." There was a faint noli me tangere air in the young staff officer's manner, and yet mere propinquity drew them together in a few minutes.

With the insouciance of men bred in club and at mess, the two soldiers soon drifted into an easy chat, meeting on safe grounds.