"I am doing very well, sir, thank you."
"I told you to cut out the 'sir,' didn't I?"
"Yes, sir—beg pardon——"
Berkley eyed him. "You've got your chance," he said. "Your rank and mine are equal. Do you take pleasure in continually reminding yourself of your recent position of servitude?"
"Sir?—beg pardon——"
"Can't you help it? Is it born in you?"
Burgess stood silent, considering, then he lifted his ugly face and looked hard at Berkley.
"I am not ashamed of having served you. I am more comfortable under orders. . . . I liked to dress you up . . . I wish to God it was that way now."
"Don't you want your independence?"
"My independence," repeated Burgess, "I had it—more of it when I was looking out for you, sir, than I have now in this damn regiment——"