CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I 'VE enlisted,” said Stephen to Benson.
The crowd had dispersed, and silence had fallen on the square. Benson had just entered his office whither Stephen had preceded him. The latter stood before his friend, shame-faced and dogged, with his blood quite cooled, and accused by an awakening sense of duty, which denied by his act, was now protesting against that act.
“I've enlisted,” he repeated, “and I must go home and tell my Aunt Virginia.”
“You've done what?” cried Benson, wheeling on him.
“Don't I make it plain to you, I've said it twice—I've enlisted. I'm going to the war.”
“You'll do nothing of the sort!” said Benson sharply and angrily. “What do you expect me to say to you?”
“I hope you'll be careful what you say,” retorted the young fellow, grinning with a fleeting sense of humour at the situation, “for I'm a soldier now!” He seated himself, and buried his hands deep in his trousers' pockets. “I've thrown over the whole thing, I'll never be a lawyer now, I've chosen a better trade, why don't you congratulate me? They have been patting me on the back and calling me a brave boy, haven't you anything to say?”