It passed the heavy time till dinner--a most unappetizing meal served to the boys and a few invalids in a corner of a barrack-room.

But that he had written to Mahbub Ali, Kim would have been almost depressed.

The indifference of native crowds he was used to; but this strong loneliness among white men preyed on him.

He was grateful when, in the course of the afternoon, a big soldier took him over to Father Victor, who lived in another wing across another dusty parade-ground.

The priest was reading an English letter written in purple ink.