WHAT DO you think of it?’ Harris asked with ill-concealed pride. He stood in the doorway of the hut while Wilson moved cautiously forward between the brown sticks of Government furniture like a setter through stubble. ‘Better than the hotel,’ Wilson said cautiously, pointing his muzzle towards a Government easy-chair. ‘I thought I’d give you a surprise when you got back from Lagos.’ Harris had curtained the Nissen hut into three: a bedroom for each of them and a common sitting-room. ‘There’s only one point that worries me. I’m not sure whether there are any cockroaches.’ ‘Well, we only played the game to get rid of them.’ ‘I know, but it seems almost a pity, doesn’t it?’ ‘Who are our neighbours?’ ‘There’s Mrs Rolt who was submarined, and there are two chaps in the Department of Works, and somebody called Clive from the Agricultural Department, Boling, who’s in charge of Sewage—they all seem a nice friendly lot. And Scobie, of course, is just down the road.’ ‘Yes.’ Wilson moved restlessly around the hut and came to a stop in front of a photograph which Harris had propped against a Government inkstand.
