“Look, do come with me to my room,” interrupted Sheffield. “I've got such a nice sitting-room with an open fire, just next to Lieutenant Bleezer.... An' there we'll talk... about everything. I'm just dying to talk to somebody about the things of the spirit.” “Do you know anything about a scheme for sending enlisted men to French universities? Men who have not finished their courses.” “Oh, wouldn't that be just fine. I tell you, boy, there's nothing like the U. S. government to think of things like that.” “But have you heard anything about it?” “No; but I surely shall.... D'you mind switching the light off?... That's it. Now just follow me. Oh, I do need a rest. I've been working dreadfully hard since that Knights of Columbus man came down here. Isn't it hateful the way they try to run down the 'Y'?... Now we can have a nice long talk. You must tell me all about yourself.” “But don't you really know anything about that university scheme? They say it begins February fifteenth,” Andrews said in a low voice. “I'll ask Lieutenant Bleezer if he knows anything about it,” said Sheffield soothingly, throwing an arm around Andrews's shoulder and pushing him in the door ahead of him. They went through a dark hall to a little room where a fire burned brilliantly in the hearth, lighting up with tongues of red and yellow a square black walnut table and two heavy armchairs with leather backs and bottoms that shone like lacquer. “This is wonderful,” said Andrews involuntarily. “Romantic I call it. Makes you think of Dickens, doesn't it, and Locksley Hall.” “Yes,” said Andrews vaguely. “Have you been in France long?” asked Andrews settling himself in one of the chairs and looking into the dancing flames of the log fire. “Will you smoke?” He handed Sheffield a crumpled cigarette. “No, thanks, I only smoke special kinds. I have a weak heart. That's why I was rejected from the army.... Oh, but I think it was superb of you to join as a private; It was my dream to do that, to be one of the nameless marching throng.” “I think it was damn foolish, not to say criminal,” said Andrews sullenly, still staring into the fire. “You can't mean that. Or do you mean that you think you had abilities which would have been worth more to your country in another position?... I have many friends who felt that.” “No.... I don't think it's right of a man to go back on himself.... I don't think butchering people ever does any good ...I have acted as if I did think it did good... out of carelessness or cowardice, one or the other; that I think bad.” “You mustn't talk that way” said Sheffield hurriedly. “So you are a musician, are you?” He asked the question with a jaunty confidential air. “I used to play the piano a little, if that's what you mean,” said Andrews.