For Tennelly was tall and strikingly handsome.  He had those deep black eyes that hold a maiden’s gaze and dare a devil; yet there was behind his look something strong, dashing, scholarly.  Gila saw at once that he was distinguished in his way, and though her thoughts were strangely held by Courtland she could not let one like this go by unchallenged.  If Courtland did not prove corrigible, why, there was still as good fish in the sea as ever was caught.  It were well to have more than one hook baited.  So she received Tennelly graciously, boldly, impressively, and in three minutes was talking with that daring intimacy that young people of her style love to affect; and Tennelly, fascinated by her charms, yet seeing through them and letting her know he saw through them, was fencing with her delightfully.  He told himself it was his duty for Courtland’s sake.  Yet he was interested for his own sake and knew it.  But he did not like the idea of Court and this girl!  They did not fit.  Court was too genuine!  Too tender-hearted!  Too idealistic about women!  With himself, now, it was different.  He knew women!  Understood this one at a glance.  She was “a peach” in her way, but not the “perfect little peach” Court ought to have.  She would flirt all her life and break old Court’s heart if he married her.

So he laughed and joked with Gila, answering her challenging glances with glances just as ardent, while Bill Ward sat and watched them both, chuckling away to himself.

And Courtland, on his knees, talked with God!

The next morning Courtland awoke with a pleasant sensation of eagerness to see what life had in store for him.  Was this really the wonderful experience of love into which he had begun to enter?  He thought of Gila all in halos now.  The questionings and unpleasantnesses were forgotten.  He told himself that she would one day see and understand the wonderful experience through which he had been passing.  He would tell her just as soon as possible.  Not to-day, for he would be busy, and she had engagements Tuesday evening and all day Wednesday.  He had not noticed the subtle withdrawing as she told him, the quick, furtive calculation in her glance.  She knew how to make coming to her a privilege.  Just because she had let him think he saw a bit of her heart that night, she meant to hold him off.  Not too long, for he was not sufficiently bound to her to be safe from forgetting, but just long enough to whet his eagerness.  Her former experience in such matters had taught her to expect that he would probably call her up and beg to see her sooner, when she might relent if he was humble enough.  And she had not misjudged him.  He was looking forward to Thursday as a bright, particular goal, planning what he would say to her, wondering if his heart would bound as it had when she looked at him Sunday night, and if the strange sweetness that seemed about to be settling upon him would last.

Before he left his room that morning he did something he had never done before in college; he locked his door and knelt beside his bed to pray, with a strong, sweet sense of the Presence standing beside him, and breathing power into his soul.