he was, every inch of him, with his head up and his jaw
set. I saluted, and he returned the salute, always with that searching
look at me which now I'm sure of the meaning of. Yes, Vera's got him too.

It's time, for every reason, that we were away from here.

DICK.

FROM VERA WADSWORTH TO HER SISTER FRANCES

Plattsburg Post, Sept. 23, 1916.

DEAR FRANCES:--

I am so glad you are coming, but wish you were coming by train instead of
with the Chapmans in their car. For I can't get you here a minute too
soon, nor have you too much to myself. The Chapmans say they want to see
a hike camp, and how can I excuse myself from going too?

Everything has gone wrong, quite wrong. I thought I could keep the
lieutenant off, but I did not realize what a soldier is. Last night he
had to have his answer, and I was telling him as gently as I could, when
the stupid servant opened the front door to the captain and let him make
his own way into the parlor, where he stood before I had heard a sound.
If he didn't see what was going on, he was blind.

And then I lost my head over the sudden notion that here was my chance to
get rid of him too. For the man frightens me, Frances; I never met one
who was so steady and so determined and so strong. Maybe I blundered; I
don't know. But I can't have him getting to know me any better; I want
never to see him again. So I said (I know I stiffened horribly as I said
it, the thing was so uncalled for and so un-nice) "The lieutenant and I
were just discussing army life, captain, and how little it has for a
woman. For a man ought to be able to offer the best that there is." It
hurt him; it hurt his opinion of me. He went away almost without a word.
I never was so ashamed; never before have I felt like a butcher. But if I
meant it why shouldn't I say it? Let him hate me, if only he lets me
alone.

They march out Monday, and as I hear the drums go by on the main road I
shall be glad. But I do so want to see you. Hurry the Chapmans all you
can.

Longingly,

VERA.

FROM DAVID RIDGWAY FARNHAM, 3D, TO HIS
FATHER

Plattsburg, Sunday the 24th.

DEAR FATHER:--

I am writing just a few lines to say that we are off tomorrow on the
hike, in light marching order, and with