home, and there he went, glad
of the reprieve from an embarrassing, and, as it seemed to him now, an
undignified conflict with a civilian. But the surrender brought its
sting, and his self-respect lessened.

At the next vacation he surrendered again, and the sting began eating
into his soul. He thought of the overdue redemption he had promised
himself at all times and upon all occasions, but oftenest just before
going to sleep, when the mental picture of Jack Forsythe swaggering
around the corner, while _he_ lay conquered and helpless on the ground,
would accompany him through his dreams, and be with him when he wakened
in the morning.

It became an obsession, and very soon the sudden thought of his coming
fight with Forsythe brought the uplift of the heart and the slight
choking sensation that betokened nothing but fear.

He would not admit it at first, but finally was compelled to. Honest
with himself as he was with others, he finally yielded in the mental
struggle, and accepted the dictum of his mind. He was afraid to fight
Jack Forsythe, with no reference to, or regard for, his standing as an
officer and a gentleman.

But now, it seemed, all this was to leave him. A month before, he had
thought strongly of his child friend Florrie, and, with nothing to do
one afternoon, he had written her a letter--a jolly, rollicking letter,
filled with masculine colloquialisms and friendly endearments, such as
he had bestowed upon her at home; and it was the dignity of her
reply--received that day--with the contents of the letter, which was the
"something on his mind" that kept him aboard.

His cheeks burned as he realized that she was now about twenty years
old, a young lady, and that his letter to her had been sadly conceived
and much out of place. But the news in the letter, which began with
"Dear Sir," and ended with "Sincerely yours," affected him most. It
read:

"I presume you know that your enemy, Jack Forsythe, took his
disappointment so keenly that he never amounted to much at home, and
about two years ago enlisted in the navy. This relieves you, as
father tells me, from the necessity of thrashing him--as you
declared you would. Officers and enlisted men cannot fight, he said,
as the officer has the advantage, and can always order the man to
jail. I thank you very much for remembering me after all these
years--in fact, I shall never forget your kindness."

His cheeks and ears had b