So that was what she had told Tennelly behind the closed doors!

Before Courtland’s eyes there floated a vision of Gila as she first caught sight of him in the office of the inn.  If ever soul was guilty in full knowledge of her sin she had been!  Again she passed before his vision with shamed head down-drooped and all her proud, imperial manner gone.  The mask had fallen from Gila forever so far as Courtland was concerned.  Not even her little, pitiful, teary face that morning, when she crept from the car at her aunt’s door, could deceive him again.

“And you believe all that?” asked Courtland.  He could not help it.  His dearest friend was in peril.  What else could he do?

“I—­don’t know!” said Tennelly, helplessly.

There was silence in the room.  Then Tennelly did realize a little!  Perhaps Tennelly had known all along, better than he!

“And—­you will forgive her?”

“I must!” said Tennelly, in desperation.  “Court, my life is bound up in her!”

“So I once thought!” Courtland was only musing out loud.

Tennelly looked at him sadly.

“She almost wrecked my soul!” went on Courtland.

“I know,” said Tennelly, in profound sorrow.  “She told me.”

“She told you?”

“Yes, before we were engaged.  She told me that she had asked you to give up preaching, that she could never bear to be a minister’s wife.  I had begun to realize what that would mean to you then.  I respected your choice.  It was great of you, Court!  But you never really loved her, man, or you could not have given her up!”

Courtland was silent for a moment, then he burst out:  “Nelly!  It was not that!  You shall know the truth!  She asked me to give up my God for her!”

“I have no God,” said Tennelly, dully.

A great yearning for his friend filled the heart of Courtland.  “Listen, old man, you mustn’t marry her!” he burst out again.  “I believe she’s rotten all the way through.  You didn’t see and hear all last night.  She can’t be true!  She hasn’t it in her!  She will be false to you whenever she takes the whim!  She will lead you through hell!”

“You don’t understand.  I would go through hell to be with her!”

Tennelly’s words rang through the room like a knell, and Courtland could say no more.  There was silence in the room.  Courtland watched his friend’s haggard face anxiously.  There were deep lines of agony about his mouth and dark circles under his eyes.

Suddenly Tennelly lifted his hand and laid it on his friend’s.  “Thanks, Court.  Thanks a lot.  I appreciate it all more than you know.  But this is my job.  I guess I’ve got to undertake it!  And, man! can’t you see I’ve got to believe her?”

“I suppose you have, Nelly.  God help you!”

When Courtland got back to the seminary he found a letter from Mother Marshall.