of gall
and wormwood to Cameron, for his proud spirit could not bend to salute
the man whom he considered a scoundrel, and Wainwright took a fine
delight in using his power over his enemy to the limit. If it had not
been for the unexpected return of the captain a day earlier than planned,
Cameron might have had to suffer humiliations far greater than he did.

The bitterness between the two grew stronger, and Cameron went about with
his soul boiling with rage and rebellion. It was only when Ruth's letters
came that he forgot it all for a few minutes and lifted his thoughts to
higher things.

XIII

It was a clear, crisp day in March with just a smell of Spring in the
air, when Cameron finally united with the church.

He had taken a long time to think about it. Quarantine had extended
itself away into February, and while his company had had its regular
drill and hard work, there had been no leave from camp, no going to
Y.M.C.A. huts, and no visiting canteens. They had been shut up to the
company of the members of their own barracks, and there were times when
that palled upon Cameron to a distressing degree. Once when it had snowed
for three days, and rained on the top of it, and a chill wind had swept
into the cracks and crannies of the barracks, and poured down from the
ventilators in the roofs. The old stoves were roaring their best to keep
up good cheer, and the men lay on their cots in rows talking; telling
their vile stories, one after another, each to sound bigger than the
last, some mere lads boasting of wild orgies, and all finally drifting
into a chat on a sort of philosophy of the lowest ideals. Cameron lay on
his cot trying to sleep, for he had been on guard all night, and a letter
from Ruth was in his inside pocket with a comfortable crackle, but the
talk that drifted about him penetrated even his army blankets when he
drew them up over his ears.

The fellows had arrived at a point where a young lad from Texas had
stated with a drawl that all girls were more or less bad; that this talk
of the high standards of womanhood was all bosh; that there was one
standard for men and women, yes, but it was man's standard, not woman's,
as was written sometimes. White womanhood! Bah! There was no such thing!

In vain Cameron stuffed the blanket about his ears, resolutely shut his
eyes and tried to sleep. His very blood boiled in his veins. The letter
in his pocket cried out to be exonerated from this wholesale