"He's sure to do well," she would say. "He's always had all sorts of possibilities. Watch the war bring them out." Why did women like the man? There was no question that they did. They talked now, in ancient terms, of his permanent exit from the field of wild oats. He could be so fascinating, so thoughtful--of women. But men didn't like him. Dalrymple's fascinating ways had caught them too frequently, too expensively. And George didn't believe in his reform, saw symptoms, as others did, of its true value when, at the close of the second camp, Dalrymple got himself assigned to the trains of the division. It was rumoured he had left Plattsburgh a second lieutenant. It was fact that he appeared at Upton a captain. Secret intrigues in Washington by fond parents, men whispered; but the women didn't seem to care, for Dalrymple hadn't shown himself before any of them carrying less than the double silver bars of a captain. George received his prophesied majority at the moment of this disagreeable arrival. That did impress Sylvia to the point of making her more cordial in public, more careful than before not to give him a word in private. As the day of departure approached he grew increasingly restless. He had never experienced a sensation of such complete helplessness. He was bound by Upton. She could stand aside and mock him with her studied politenesses. Blodgett ran down a number of times, to sit in George's quarters, working with the three partners over figures. They made tentative lists of what should be sold at the first real whisper of peace. "But there'll be no peace for a long time," Blodgett promised. "There's a lot of money for you boys in this war yet." They laughed at him, and he looked a little hurt, apparently unable to see anything humorous in his cheerful promise. Dalrymple was aware of these conferences, for he was frequently about the regimental area. George wasn't surprised, when he sat alone one night, to hear a tap on his window pane, to see Dalrymple's face at the window. "Hesitate to disturb a major, and all that," Dalrymple said as he entered. "Two rooms. You're lucky." "Not luck; work," George said, shortly. "What is it? Didn't come here to envy my rank, did you?" Although he was in far better shape nervously and physically than he had been that day in George's office, Dalrymple bore himself with much the same confused and hesitant manner. It recalled to George the existence of the note which the other had made no effort to redeem. "You know," Dalrymple began, vaguely, "there's a lot of--what do you call it--bunk--about this hurrah for the dear old soldier business. Fact is, the more chance there is of a man's getting blown up the nastier some people become." George laughed shortly. "You mean when you owe them money." "As Driggs used to say," Dalrymple answered, "'you're a very penetrating person.'" He hesitated, then went on with an increasing difficulty: "You're one of the people I owe money to."