Your blood gets thin when you have nothing to do but hope against hope and think of your pals and the old days.
I was moving along, listening with half an ear to the lieutenant's prattle and the loud explanations of the deputy-commandant, when I pitchforked into what might have been the end of my business.

We were going through a sort of convalescent room, where people were sitting who had been in hospital.

It was a big place, a little warmer than the rest of the building, but still abominably fuggy.

There were about half a dozen men in the room, reading and playing games.

They looked at us with lack-lustre eyes for a moment, and then returned to their occupations.