tune, I should say. But Nature doesn't give a damn for
happy arrangements! God knows what she's after, I don't! But just at
present she seems to be loading the dice for Jimmy--for Jimmy, who
perhaps isn't even interested in the game! Well, such--for our misery or
amusement--is life! And my cigarettes are gone.... How about yours----?"

VI

It did not take Susan long to make it perfectly clear to Doctor Askew
and me that she had waked from her trance to complete lucidity, showing
no traces of any of the abnormal after-effects we had both been
dreading. Her first rather surprising words had been spoken just as she
opened her eyes and before she had quite realized anything but my
familiar presence beside her. They were soon followed by an entirely
natural astonishment and confusion. What had happened? Where was she?
She sat up in bed and stared about her, her eyes coming to rest on
Doctor Askew's eager, observant face.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Doctor Askew," he replied quietly. "Don't be alarmed, Miss Blake. Mr.
Hunt and I have been looking after you. Not that you've been much
trouble," he smiled; "on the contrary. You've been fast asleep for more
than twelve hours. We both envy you."

For a long two minutes she did not reply. Then, "Oh, yes," she said.
"Oh, yes." Her chin began to quiver, she visibly shuddered through her
whole slight frame, and for an instant pressed her palms hard against
her eyes. "Ambo," she murmured, "it was cruel--worse than anything! I
got to the 'phone all right, didn't I? Yes, I remember that. I gave the
message. But I knew I must go back to her. So much blood, Ambo.... I'm a
coward--oh, I'm a coward! But I tried, I did try to go back! Where _did_
I go, Ambo?"

"You went to sleep like a sensible little woman!" struck in Doctor
Askew, briskly. "You'd done all you could, all anyone could--so you went
to sleep. I wish to God more women under such circumstances would follow
your example! Much better than going all to pieces and making a scene!"

Susan could not respond to his encouraging smile. "To sleep!" she sighed
miserably; "just as I did--once before. What a coward I am! When awful
things happen, I dodge them--I run away."

"Nonsense, dear. You knew Gertrude was beyond helping, didn't you?"

"Yes; but if she hadn't been?" She shook her head impatiently. "You're
both trying to be kind; but you won't be able to make me forgive
myself--not this time. I don't rise to a crisis--I slum