He had not asked her to marry him, nor even told her he loved her. They had talked in quiet, wondering ways of feeling drawn to each other; at least _he_ had talked, and Gila had sat watching him with deep, dissatisfied eyes. She had sense enough to see that she could not win him with the arts that had won others. His was a nature deeper, stronger. She must bide her time and be coy. But her spirit chafed beneath delay, and dark passions lurked behind and brooded in her eyes. Perhaps it was this that held him in a sort of uncertainty. It was as if he waited permission from some unseen source to take what she was so evidently ready to give. He thought it was the sacredness in which he held her. Almost the sermon and the feeling of the Presence were out of mind as he went home. There played around him now a little phantom joy that hovered over like a will-o'-the-wisp above his heart, and danced, giving him a strange, inexplicable exhilaration. Was this love? Was he in love? He flung himself down on Tennelly's couch when he got back to the dormitory. Bill Ward was deep in a book under the drop-light, and Tennelly was supposed to be finishing a theme for the next day. "Nelly, what is love?" asked Courtland, suddenly, in the midst of the silence. "How do you know when you are in love?" Tennelly dropped his fountain-pen in his surprise, and had to crawl under the table after it. He and Bill Ward exchanged one lightning glance of relief as he emerged from the table. "Search me!" said Tennelly, as he sat down again. "Love's an illusion, they say. I never tried it, so I don't know." There was silence again in Tennelly's room. Presently Courtland got up and said good-night. Over in his own room he stood by the window, looking out into the moonlight. The preacher had said prayer was talking with the Lord face to face. That was a new idea. Courtland dropped upon his knees and talked aloud to God as he had never opened his heart to living creature before. If prayer was that, why, prayer was good! Gila, standing bewildered, studying her pretty, discontented little face in the mirror, with all its masks laid aside, would have shivered in fear and been all the more uncertain of her success if she could have known that the man she would have had for a lover was on his knees talking about her to God. Her little naked soul in a garden all alone with the Lord God, and a man who was set to follow Him! Tennelly looked up and raised his eyebrows as Courtland closed the door. "Guess you needn't have written that letter, after all!" chuckled Bill Ward. "I thought Gila would get in her little old work!" "Well, it's written and mailed, so that doesn't do any good now. And, anyway, it's always well to have more than one string to your bow!" growled Tennelly. Courtland in love! He wasn't exactly sure he liked it. Courtland and Gila! What kind of a girl was Gila, anyway? Was she good enough for Court? He must look into this.