He left the town under cover of the darkness, and the corps breathed more freely to know that the black sheep of their flock was gone. As though to atone for his unfortunate connection with the accusation against Mark Merrill, Scott Clemmons had sought out the wronged youth, and frankly said: “I say, Merrill, I’m deuced sorry for all that has happened, I am, ’pon honor. Breslin was such an awkward lad I felt sorry for him, but I had no idea that he was crooked, and he deserved even worse than you gave him. But say, old shipmate, let us bury the hatchet between us and be friends. We are rivals, I know, for first honors in our class, but that should not make us foes, and here’s my hand in real friendship.” This speech was delivered, for Clemmons was nothing, if not rhetorical, oratorical and dramatic, in the presence of a dozen fellow cadets. He would have considered it as seed sown in barren places, if he had made his little speech to Mark Merrill alone. The cadets present set it down as “very neat,” “deuced clever,” and “quite the correct thing, you know.” But Mark Merrill did not seem in the least impressed. He heard Clemmons with a patience and silence that was almost embarrassing. Then, without seeming to see the extended hand, he responded in his quiet way: “Clemmons, what Breslin did he has suffered for, and your seemingly frank offer of friendship under other circumstances I might appreciate; but I am no hypocrite, and I will not profess a friendship I do not feel. I shall treat you with respect, yes, and shall exact the same treatment from you, but friendship between us is not to be thought of, as in your heart, you know as well as I do, that it is not sincere.” Clemmons felt sorry that he had not gone to Merrill in private, for the rejection of his proffered friendship cut him to the quick. His face flushed, then paled, and he said in a tone of suppressed feeling: “So be it, sir, if you desire it,” and he wheeled on his heel and walked away. The cadets present felt that there was an undercurrent between the two, a feeling that they were not in touch with, and somehow they decided that Mark Merrill’s response left him master of the situation, notwithstanding the very manly _amende honorable_ of Scott Clemmons, as it had at first seemed to them. That Mark was jealous of Clemmons as a rival for honors they did not for a moment believe. He had some secret cause of bitterness against Clemmons, and he was of too manly a nature to play the hypocrite, they decided. Of course the story of the friendly offer by Scott Clemmons and its rejection by Mark Merrill became known to the whole corps, and finally reached the ear of the commandant. A cadet who happened to be present when the commandant heard the story, engaged in some work at a table near, told what he had overheard. The commandant had said: “Merrill was wise; yes, and right, too.”