I sat there quietly, and stared at the two of them with a sort of vacant watchfulness. My hat was gone, my hairpins had taken unto themselves wings, and my hair, covered with dust, hung about me like a veil. I was just beginning to be conscious of pain. It was a shuddering pain, new and cruel, and I winced. The next minute Alicia was kneeling beside me, and her face had again become quite colorless. "Sophy!" her voice sounded shrill and far off. "Sophy, you said you were all right!--Richard, look at Sophy!" I felt the doctor's swift, deft hands upon me. And more pain. People were arriving now. Cars stopped, and excited men and women surrounded us. One tall figure leaped from the first car and reached us ahead of all others. "Geddes!" cried a voice. "Thank God, Geddes! We were told you'd been killed outright! Alicia all right, too?" Then: "Sophy!" This time it was a cry of terror. "Never tell me it's Sophy!" I saw his face bent over me. Then a red mist came, and then everything went dark. CHAPTER XIX DEEP WATERS Somewhere, far, far off, a faint and feeble little light glimmered, one small point of light in vast blackness. In the whole universe there wasn't anything or anybody but just that tiny light, and swift black water, and drowning me. Something deep within me--I think occultists call it the body-spirit--was clamoring frantically to hold fast to the light, because if that went under I should go under, too. I tried to keep my eyes upon the trembling spark. Whereupon the light changed to a sound, the monotonous insistence of which forced me to be worriedly aware of it. It was--why, it was a voice, calling, over and over and over again, "_Sophy! Sophy!_" Somebody was calling _me_. With an immense effort I managed to raise my eyelids. I was lying in a bed, and caught a drowsy, fleeting glimpse of four posts. Four posts upon my bed, Four angels for my head, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John Bless the bed that I lie on! Granny used to say that for me at night; only she had said "four hangels for my 'ead," at which I used to giggle into my pillows. I hadn't felt so close to Granny since I was little Sophy, in the rooms over our shop in Boston. She was somewhere around me; if I went to sleep now, she'd be there when I woke up in the morning. But the sound that was a calling voice wouldn't let me go to sleep. Slowly, heavily, I managed to get my eyes open again. "Look at me!" said the voice imperiously. Two large dark eyes caught my wavering glance and held it, as in a vise. "Sophy! Sophy! _I need you._" Said another voice, then, brokenly: "For mercy's sake, Jelnik, let her go in peace!" "No, she sha'n't die. I won't have it!--Sophy, come back! It is I who call you, Sophy. Come back!" My stiff lips moved. "Must go--sleep," I tried to say.