Sam almost wished that Saunders' nose
was a blemish, for it would help his chances, but candor obliged him to
admit that it was, on the contrary, one of his rival's strong points,
and he sighed once again to think that he bore no marks on his own
person of the hazing ordeal. All that Sam could do now was to wait. He
recognized the fact that no girl with self-respect would speak to a
"beast," and he determined to be patient until in another twelvemonth
he should have become a full-fledged third-class man himself. The other
engagements had proved ephemeral, why not that with Saunders?
Fortunately this new sentiment of Sam's did not interfere with his
military work. Instead of that it inspired him with new fervor, and he
now strove to be a perfect soldier not only for its own sake, but for
her sake too.
Meanwhile Saunders began to imagine that Sam looked at his _fiancee_ a
little too frequently and long, and he determined to punish him for it.
How was this to be done? In his deportment toward the upper-class men
Sam was absolutely perfect, and had begun to win golden opinions from
instructors and cadets alike. He always did more than was required of
him, and did it better than was expected. He treated all upper-class
men with profound respect, and he did it without effort because it came
natural to him. He never ventured to look them in the eye, and he
blushed and stammered when they addressed him.
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