ed no lecture, I
am sure; you are sufficiently contrite. I have a feeling that she was
right about sexual attraction being paramount; and I think that she is a
very brave girl. I like the way she went home, and I like the way she
has kept silent. Not many girls could or would do that. It takes
courage. From what you have said, however, I imagine that she is not
your kind; at least, that she isn't the kind that is good for you. You
have suffered and are suffering, I know, but I am sure that some day you
are going to be very grateful to that girl--for a good many reasons."

Hugh felt better after that talk, and the end of the term brought him a
surprise that wiped out his depression and his sense of failure. He
found, too, that his pain was growing less; the wound was healing.
Perversely, he hated it for healing, and he poked it viciously to feel
it throb. Agony had become sweet. It made life more intense, less
beautiful, perhaps, but more wonderful, more real. Romantically, too, he
felt that he must be true both to his love and to his sorrow, and his
love was fading into a memory that was plaintively gray but shot with
scarlet thrills--and his sorrow was bowing before the relentless
excitement of his daily life.

The surprise that rehabilitated him in his own respect was his election
to the Boule, the senior council and governing board of the student
body. It was the greatest honor that an undergraduate could receive, and
Hugh had in no way expected it. When Nu Delta had first suggested to him
that he be a candidate, he had demurred, saying that there were other
men in his delegation better fitted to serve and with better chances of
election. Leonard Gates, however, felt otherwise; and before Hugh knew
what had happened he was a candidate along with thirty other juniors,
only twelve of whom could be elected.

He took no part in the campaigning, attended none of the caucuses, was
hardly interested in the fraternity "combine" that promised to elect
him. He did not believe that he could be elected; he saw no reason why
he should be. As a matter of fact, as Gates and others well knew, his
chances were more than good. Hugh was popular in his own right, and his
great race in the Sanford-Raleigh meet had made him something of a hero
for the time being. Furthermore, he was a member of both the Glee and
Banjo Clubs, he had led his class in the spring sings for three years,
and he had a respectable record in his studies.

The