Gale laughed. “You are an open book to me,” she giggled.
Phyllis sighed. “Woe is me! Nothing is a secret any more.”
The girls did not linger with the others long after dinner. They went to their room, Phyllis to read and Gale to write letters. She owed one to her parents, one to Miss Relso, who was still taking an interest in their school life, and one to Brent Stockton. The one to Brent was the longest and well it should be. Gale did not often see the young aviator with whom she was so much in love, but their letters were long and frequent and filled with many pictures.
“Send Brent my love,” Phyllis told her as she struggled into her pajamas. “Doesn’t that make you jealous?” she wanted to know teasingly.
“No,” Gale said promptly. “I even sent him a picture of you—and me,” she added.
“Foiled!” Phyllis murmured, smothering a yawn in the pillow, “Aren’t you ever going to bed?”
“Lights-out bell hasn’t rung yet,” Gale reminded her.
“You can go to bed anyway,” Phyllis informed her. “The Dean won’t mind.”
“Go to sleep,” Gale laughed.
The moonlight came into the room with illuminating brilliance. The girls slept peacefully, sweetly dreaming delightful dreams. The campus was still with the peace of an autumn night. The sorority house was dark. It was as if another world of glorious peace and accord had opened where previously had been the trill of voices and patter of running feet. Now nothing moved but the silent clouds over the moon and the gentle sifting of leaves in the wind.