After registering at the hotel office, in the book kept for that purpose, as every cadet is required to do, Mr.Furlong hoped for several minutes of talk with his pretty partner, either in a corner of the parlor, or on the veranda.

Only the parlor and the veranda are open to cadets having permission to call at the hotel.
Greg, having no companion to go after, brought out his stool and seated himself beside Dick in front of the tent.
"Why don't you go over to the hop tonight, Dick ?" Greg asked.
"Mainly because I don't wish to," replied Prescott, with a smile.
"Granted.

But I am rather wondering why you don't wish to." "I think you can keep a secret, Greg," replied his old Gridley chum, looking quizzically at Holmes.

"Greg, I'm too awfully lonesome to trust myself at the hop tonight.
"Eh?
Why, old ramrod, the hop ought to be the very place to lose that lonesome feeling." "Just what I'm afraid of," responded Prescott.
"You---eh---huh! You're talking riddles now.
"Greg, a cadet can't marry.

Or, if he does, his marriage acts as an automatic resignation, and he's dropped from the cadet corps." "I know all that," Holmes assented.
"Now, here at West Point, with this nearly male-convent life, a fellow often gets so blamed lonesome that almost any girl looks fine to him, Greg.