op--or I'm done with you." And then Harris himself stopped short.

"I don't know what you mean," began Willett, shifting uneasily.

"You _do_ know what I mean! You've only to go back to your graduating
June, when you were spooning day and night over a society flirt there
at the hotel--a married woman at that--and your mantel-shelf was
stacked high with unopened, unanswered letters from the poor girl you
were engaged to. You were, Willett, in sight of God and man, so don't
deny it! And she was telegraphing to me in pity to say was Harold
sick--or what. She broke with you, of course, after you broke her
heart. And you've been at that sort of thing ever since, unless the
Division of the Pacific is a nest of liars--oh, bosh! I don't count
Case, though it's like enough he told the truth. But now, Willett,
you're _here_! and--what have we to expect at Almy?"

"Damn my past all you like, Harris. No man's more ashamed of it than I,
but don't damn my future!" And now Willett was on _his_ feet, his eyes
snapping, his face aflame. "I was never so earnest in my life. [Small
comfort that! thought Harris.] I never knew before what it was to be
utterly in earnest. Stop it! Why, man, where have I--or you--ever known
a girl like _her_? Stop it! Oh, here, Hefty, I can't talk as I feel.
You _must_ see how different this is--how much this means to me! The
man doesn't deserve to live that--that could be untrue to a girl like
that?"

"That's--sound enough," said poor Hefty. "But how long will you hold to
it?"

"So long as I live, Harris," was the solemn, the surprising answer.
"God knows I mean it," and Willett held forth his hand.

And Willett believed he meant it--firmly, solemnly believed he meant
it, and his handsome face was never handsomer, never more eloquent of
love, repentance, determination to do a man's manful part in
furtherance of his devotion than at this moment when, in the dimly
lighted, scantily furnished, low-ceilinged little room, these two men
of different mould, these classmates of the nation's soldier school,
stood and looked into each other's eyes, and slowly Harris began to
stretch forth his left hand, then, stopping suddenly, slipped the right
forearm from its broad white sling, steadied the elbow with his left,
and slowly turned the thin, feeble fingers to meet the warm clasp of
that before him.

"It's one of 'Tonio's tricks," said he. "_Mano recto, mano cierto._
Stick to that, Willett, and, by God, I'll sta