But a glance at a looking-glass reassured me.

No one would ever have taken the brick-coloured, ragged-looking ruffians we had become for Europeans.
I accepted a kind and courteous invitation from Mr.L----, of the Indo-European Telegraph, with pleasure, for the Dak bungalow was dirty and comfortless.

Although my host and charming hostess would have made any place agreeable, Quetta is, from everything but a strategical point of view, dull and uninteresting.

It is an English garrison town, and all is said.

The usual nucleus of scandal, surrounded by dances, theatricals, polo, flirtation, drink, and--divorce.