The more I think of it, the more I regret it, and the more I am decided not to repeat it, but abide with my comrades and share their fate in all things.

I feel that I no longer have a choice in the matter; I must do it.

But there goes the drum for roll-call.

I must go.

Good evening, and very many thanks." "The young fellow's no callow milksop, after all," said the Surgeon Denslow, as his eyes followed Harry's retreating form.