Reflections in a Golden Eye by Carson Mccullers Page A

passed before, with one accord, they turned to continue on
     their ways.

Carson McCullers - Reflections In A Golden Eye

CHAPTER 4
    It is not easy on an army post for an officer to bring himself into personal contact with
     an enlisted man. Captain Penderton was now aware of this. Had he been serving as an
     ordinary line officer such as Major Morris Langdon, heading a company, a battalion, or a
     regiment, a certain amount of intercourse with the men in his command would have been open
     to him. Thus Major Langdon knew the name and face of almost every soldier in his charge.
     But Captain Penderton with his work at the School was in no such position. Except through
     his riding (and no feat of horsemanship was reckless enough for the Captain these days)
     there was no way at all for him to establish relations with the soldier whom he had come
     to hate.
    Yet the Captain felt an aching want for contact between them of some sort. The thought of
     the soldier tantalized him continually. He went down to the stables as often as he could
     reasonably do so. Private Williams saddled his horse for him and held the bridle as he
     mounted. When the Captain knew in advance that he would meet the soldier, he felt himself
     grow dizzy. During their brief, impersonal meetings he suffered a curious lapse of sensory
     impressions; when he was near the soldier he found himself unable to see or to hear
     properly, and it was only after he had ridden away and was alone again that the scene
     developed itself for the first time in his mind. The thought of the young man's face the
     dumb eyes, the heavy sensual lips that were often wet, the childish page boy bangs this
     image was intolerable to him. He rarely heard the soldier speak, but the sound of his
     slurring Southern voice meandered constantly in the back of his mind like a troubling song.
    Late in the afternoons the Captain walked on the streets between the stables and the
     barracks in the hope of meeting Private Williams. When from a distance he saw him, walking
     with sluggish grace, the Captain felt his throat contract so that he could scarcely
     swallow. Then, when they were face to face, Private Williams always stared vaguely over
     the Captain's shoulder and saluted very slowly with his hand quite relaxed. Once as they
     were nearing each other the Captain saw him unwrap a bar of candy and drop the paper
     carelessly on the neat strip of grass bordering the sidewalk. This had infuriated the
     Captain and, after walking for some distance, he turned back, picked up the wrapper (it
     was from a bar of Baby Ruth), and put it in his pocket.
    Captain Penderton, who on the whole had lived a most rigid and unemotional life, did not
     question this strange hate of his. Once or twice, when he awoke late after taking too much
     Seconal, he made himself uncomfortable by thinking back over his recent behavior. But he
     made no real effort to force himself to an inward reckoning.
    One afternoon he drove before the barracks and saw the soldier resting alone on one of
     the benches. The Captain parked his car farther down the street and sat watching him. The
     soldier sprawled in the abandoned position of one who is on the point of napping. The sky
     was a pale green and the last of the wintry sun made sharp, long shadows. The Captain
     watched the soldier until the call for supper. Then, when Private Williams had gone
     inside, the Captain still sat in his car, looking at the outside of the barracks.
    Dark came on and the building was brightly lighted. In a recreation room downstairs he
     could see the men playing billiards or lounging with magazines. The Captain thought of the
     mess hall with the long tables laden with hot food and the hungry soldiers eating and
     laughing together with lusty camaraderie. The Captain was not familiar with enlisted men
     and his picture of the life inside the barracks was greatly enriched by his imagination.
     The