Ben just laughed then. “Don’t you know, Leony, that sometimes it takes nine or ten days for it to show up? That’s why they waited until now to have this thing, because they figure that if a guy ain’t got nothin’ wrong with him now, he won’t have unless he gets something from one o’ these passionate mademoiselles.” I must have looked pretty scared, for he asked, “What the hell’s the matter with you?” “Oh, nothing,” I replied, catching up my slipping nerves. “That stuff doesn’t worry me any. I just haven’t got time to chase up there to the sick-bay.” “Well, you might’s well go and get it over with,” he advised. But I didn’t. I beat it right back to the General’s and believe me I managed to keep myself busy there all afternoon and part of the evening. But I didn’t know what was going to happen. The top-kicker later came around and said, “I’ve been looking all over for you, Canwick. You’re the only one the Doc hasn’t seen, so to-morrow morning, I’ll take you up.” Well, I was racking my brains, but if the morrow didn’t bring forth any more than my brains had so far, then somebody was in line for a scandalous surprise to-morrow morning. God, why did I ever get into such a mess! If I wasn’t sure that they’d pull me out, I’d have gone over the side straight. The way I felt then, I’d rather have died than be discovered. It was awful! —6— I found it necessary to hide out the following day: when I wasn’t with the General I managed to find other places to go—any place except the hole. And of course I was worried sick all day, and even then I wasn’t sure whether I’d escaped or just delayed again the inevitable moment of detection. This suspense certainly was hard on a girl’s nerves. When I came in at night, Ben welcomed me with, “Well, Leony, you can thank me fer savin’ yer stars this time.” “Why?” I inquired, at a loss to know what he was talking about. “The top-kick’s been in here a dozen times lookin’ fer you, and every time I said you were busy as hell with the Gen.” “Well—I have been,” I agreed. “And I suppose you forgot all about that doctor that’s been waitin’ specially to meet ya?” he suggested with a smile. “No—I didn’t,” I declared. “But I just haven’t had time to chase after any doctors. I don’t need a doctor for anything anyway!” “You don’t, eh?” He laughed. “Don’t kid me any more, buddy. I’m yer friend anyway.” I began to wonder just what this big galoot had in his head. Did he suspect that I was avoiding the doctor. Apparently he did. What did he think my reason for this? Had he somehow become suspicious of my sex? All at once I felt panicky—actually like running away. He continued to chew and spit, while I looked at him stupidly, trying to divine his thoughts. Finally he said, “You’re the last man in the world I’d think it of.” “Think what of? What the hell are you talking about?”