Above it, large and airy, with extensive verandahs parallel to the harbour, was the old Customs, and it was this that had been transformed into a hospital.

It was an admirable place.

The Red Cross trains ran in below, and the men could be quickly swung up into the cool, clean wards above.
These, all on one level, had great glass doors giving access to the verandahs, and from the verandahs broad gangways could be placed, running men, at high tide, on to the hospital ship alongside.

The nurses' quarters were beyond, and their sitting-room was perched up, as it were, sea on one side and harbour on the other.
At present, of course, Peter did not know all this.

He was merely conducted by an orderly in the dusk to the anteroom of the mess, and welcomed by the orderly-officer, who led him into a comfortable room already lit, in a corner of which, near a stove, four officers sat at cards.
"Hearts three," 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.