though the man was doing the girl an honor in marrying her.
You're all too conceited-nothing's good enough for you.

BLAYNE. Not even an empty Club, a dam' bad dinner at the
Judge's, and a Station as sickly as a hospital. You're quite right.
We're a set of Sybarites.

DOONE. Luxurious dogs, wallowing in-

CURTISS. Prickly heat between the shoulders. I'm covered with
it. Let's hope Beora will be cooler.

BLAYNE. Whew! Are you ordered into camp, too? I thought the
Gunners had a clean sheet.

CURTISS. No, worse luck. Two cases yesterday-one died-and if
we have a third, out we go. Is there any shooting at Beora, Doone?

DOONE. The country's under water, except the patch by the
Grand Trunk Road. I was there yesterday, looking at a bund, and
came across four poor devils in their last stage. It's rather bad
from here to Kuchara.

CURTISS. Then we're pretty certain to have a heavy go of it.
Heigho! I shouldn't mind changing places with Gaddy for a while.
'Sport with Amaryllis in the shade of the Town Hall, and all that.
Oh, why doesn't somebody come and marry me, instead of letting
me go into cholera-camp?

MACKESY. Ask the Committee.