Sam did not lift his eyes from the table, and moved the men about with
his hand as if he were playing a game of chess.
"Here is a friend of yours to see you, Captain," said the doctor.
Sam slowly raised his head and looked at Cleary for some time without
recognizing him. Gradually a faint smile made its appearance.
"I know you," he said in the same strained voice. "I know you.
You're----"
"Cleary," said Cleary.
"Cleary? Cleary? Let me see. Why, to be sure, you're Cleary." And he
rose from his chair unsteadily and took the hand that Cleary offered
him.
"How are you, old man? I'm so glad to see you again," said Cleary.
"And so am I," said Sam, who now seemed to be almost his old self
again. "Sit down."
Cleary drew up a chair to the table, while the doctor retired and shut
the door.
"How are you getting on?" said Cleary. "You're going to get well soon,
aren't you?"
"I am well now," said Sam. "I was awfully ill, I know that, but it all
came from my mind. I think I told you that. My heart was breaking
because I couldn't be a perfect soldier. I had to face the question and
grapple with it. It was an awful experience; I can't bear to speak of
it or even think of it. But I won. I'm a perfect soldier now! I can do
anything with my men here, and I will obey any order I receive, I don't
care what it is."
As he spoke of his experience a pained expression came over his face,
but he looked proud and almost happy when he announced the result of
the conflict.
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