o do that same, but then it had been in the
nature of a holy rite offered to a vestal virgin. Yet he must have cast
it down with the grin of an imp, boorish urchin that he was; and he
remembered blushing hotly in the dark afterwards at his presumption, as
he thought of it alone at night. And all the time she had been liking it.
The little girl--the little sweet girl! She had kept it in her heart and
remembered it!

His heart was light as air as he went back to the barracks for retreat. A
miracle had been wrought for him which changed everything. No, he was not
presuming on a friendly letter. Maybe there would be fellows who would
think there wasn't much in just a friendly letter to a lonely soldier,
and a sweater or two more or less. But then they would never have known
what it was to be so lonely for friendship, real friendship, as he was.

He would hurry through supper and get to the Y.M.C.A. hut to write her an
answer. He would explain how the letter had been delayed and say he hoped
she had not given the things away to someone else. He began planning
sentences as he stood at attention during the captain's inspection at
retreat. Somehow the captain was tiresomely particular about the buttons
and pocket flaps and little details to-night. He waited impatiently for
the command to break ranks, and was one of the first at the door of the
mess hall waiting for supper, his face alight, still planning what he
would say in that letter and wishing he could get some fine stationery to
write upon; wondering if there was any to be had with his caduces on it.

At supper he bubbled with merriment. An old schoolmate might have thought
him rejuvenated. He wore his schoolboy grin and rattled off puns and
jokes, keeping the mess hall in a perfect roar.

At last he was out in the cool of the evening with the wonderful sunset
off in the west, on his way to the Y.M.C.A. hut. He turned a corner
swinging into the main road and there, coming toward him, not twenty feet
away, he saw Lieutenant Wainwright!

VI

There was no possible way to avoid meeting him. John Cameron knew that
with the first glance. He also knew that Wainwright had recognized him at
once and was lifting his chin already with that peculiar, disagreeable
tilt of triumph that had always been so maddening to one who knew the
small mean nature of the man.

Of course, there was still time to turn deliberately about and flee in
the other direction, but that would b