his name with
the accent that is sure of quick response.

It was so he remembered what he had come to tell Gila. Looking down to
that exquisite bit of humanity almost within his embrace, a great
tenderness for her, and longing, came over him, to make her know now all
that the Presence was becoming to him.

"Gila," he whispered, and his voice was full of thrill. "Let's sit down
awhile! There is something I want to tell you!"

Instantly she responded, lifting great innocent eyes, with one quick
sweep, to his face, so moved and tender; and gliding toward the couch
where they might sit together, settling down on it, almost nestling to
him, then remembering and drawing away shyly to more perfectly play her
part. She thought she knew what he was going to say. She thought she saw
the love-light in his eyes, and it was so dazzling it almost blinded
her. It frightened her a little, too, like the light in no lover's eyes
that had ever drawn her down to whisper love to her before. She wondered
if it was because she really cared herself so much now that it seemed so
different.

But he did not take her in his arms as she had expected he would do;
though he sat quite near, and spoke in a low, privileged tone, as one
would do who had the right. His arm was across the back of the couch
behind her; he sat sideways, turned toward her, and he still touched
reverently the little hand he had been holding as they danced together.

"Gila, I have a story to tell you," he said. "Until you know it you can
never understand me fully, and I want with all my heart to have you
understand me. It is something that has become a part of me."

She sat quivering, wondering, half fearful. A gleam of jealousy came
into her averted face. Was he going to tell her about another girl? A
fierce, unreasoning anger shot across her face. She would not tolerate
the thought that any one had had him before her. Was it--? It couldn't
be that baby-faced pauper in the hospital? She drew her slim little body
up tensely and waited for the story.

Courtland told the story of Stephen; told it well and briefly. He
pictured Stephen so that the girl must needs admire. No woman could have
heard that description of a man such as Stephen had been and not bow her
woman's heart and wish that she might have known him.

Gila listened, fascinated, even up to the moment of the fire and the
tragedy when Stephen fell into the flames. She shuddered visibly several
times, but sat t