It was good to be back in his proper place in the world, thought Prower-Graves, as he sat at his Gunnery station, and put his feet up on the panel; everything was powered down at present, and he was the only man on the bridge for the next few minutes, so he could just relax and let his mind drift a little. This was where he belonged, really, sitting at his panel, unconcerned with the world of High Society and all that associated nonsense. It was a realisation he'd come to during that purgatorial ball last night, and had managed to slip away part way through it and get back to the ship, with no one any the wiser.