After retreat Andrews knocked at the door at the back of the Y. M. C. A., but as there was no reply, he strode off with a long, determined stride to Sheffield's room. In the moment that elapsed between his knock and an answer, he could feel his heart thumping. A little sweat broke out on his temples. “Why, what's the matter, boy? You look all wrought up,” said Sheffield, holding the door half open, and blocking, with his lean form, entrance to the room. “May I come in? I want to talk to you,” said Andrews. “Oh, I suppose it'll be all right.... You see I have an officer with me...” then there was a flutter in Sheffield's voice. “Oh, do come in”; he went on, with sudden enthusiasm. “Lieutenant Bleezer is fond of music too.... Lieutenant, this is the boy I was telling you about. We must get him to play for us. If he had the opportunities, I am sure he'd be a famous musician.” Lieutenant Bleezer was a dark youth with a hooked nose and pincenez. His tunic was unbuttoned and he held a cigar in his hand. He smiled in an evident attempt to put this enlisted man at his ease. “Yes, I am very fond of music, modern music,” he said, leaning against the mantelpiece. “Are you a musician by profession?” “Not exactly... nearly.” Andrews thrust his hands into the bottoms of his trouser pockets and looked from one to the other with a certain defiance. “I suppose you've played in some orchestra? How is it you are not in the regimental band?” “No, except the Pierian.” “The Pierian? Were you at Harvard?” Andrews nodded. “So was I.” “Isn't that a coincidence?” said Sheffield. “I'm so glad I just insisted on your coming in.” “What year were you?” asked Lieutenant Bleezer, with a faint change of tone, drawing a finger along his scant black moustache. “Fifteen.” “I haven't graduated yet,” said the lieutenant with a laugh. “What I wanted to ask you, Mr. Sheffield....” “Oh, my boy; my boy, you know you've known me long enough to call me Spence,” broke in Sheffield. “I want to know,” went on Andrews speaking slowly, “can you help me to get put on the list to be sent to the University of Paris?... I know that a list has been made out, although the General Order has not come yet. I am disliked by most of the noncoms and I don't see how I can get on without somebody's help...I simply can't go this life any longer.” Andrews closed his lips firmly and looked at the ground, his face flushing. “Well, a man of your attainments certainly ought to go,” said Lieutenant Bleezer, with a faint tremor of hesitation in his voice. “I'm going to Oxford myself.” “Trust me, my boy,” said Sheffield. “I'll fix it up for you, I promise. Let's shake hands on it.” He seized Andrews's hand and pressed it warmly in a moist palm. “If it's within human power, within human power,” he added.