room, and stood looking out of the window
on the myriad lights of the city. There was in his face a far yearning,
and something too deep for words. It was as if he were waiting for a
blow to fall.

Tennelly looked at Courtland's back and gathered up his courage:
"Court," he said, hoarsely, trying to summon the nomenclature of the
dear old days; "there's something I wanted to ask you. Was there
anything--is there--between you and Gila Dare that makes it disloyal for
your friend to try and win her if he can?"

It was very still in the room. The whir of the trolleys could be heard
below as if they were out in the hall. They grated harshly on the
silence. Courtland stood as if carved out of marble. It seemed ages to
Tennelly before he answered, with the sadness of the grave in his tone:

"No, Nelly! It's all right! Gila and I didn't hit it off! It's all over
between us forever. Go ahead! I wish you luck!"

There was an attempt at the old loving understanding in the answer, but
somehow the last words had almost the sound of a sob in them. Tennelly
had a feeling that he was wringing his own happiness out of his friend's
soul:

"Thanks, awfully, Court! I didn't know," he said, awkwardly. "I think
she likes me a lot, but I couldn't do anything if you had the right of
way."

When Pat came back with a tray of glasses clinking with ice, and the
smell of crushed lemons, they were talking of the new English professor
and the chances that he would be better than the last, who was "punk."
But Pat was not deceived. He looked from one to the other and knew the
blow had fallen. He might have prevented it, but what was the use? It
had to come sooner or later. They talked late. Finally, Tennelly rose
and came toward Courtland, with his hand outstretched, and they all knew
that the real moment of the evening had come at last:

"That was a great old talk you gave us this evening, Court!" Tennelly's
voice was husky with feeling. One felt that he had been keeping the
feeling out of sight all the evening. He was holding Courtland's hand in
a painful grip, and looking again into his eyes as if he would search
his soul to the depths: "You sure have got hold of something there
that's worth looking into! You had a great hold on your audience, too!
Why, you almost persuaded me there was something in it!"

Tennelly tried to finish his sentence in lighter vein, but the feeling
was in his voice yet.

Courtland gripped his hand and looked hi