It was true; these days were, must be, but transitional. Excitement-Eaters, dancers in the dark—all were part of the wheel of progress that seems to go back at times before it turns forward again. But “it takes time, and costs a lot on the way.” It costs a lot, it costs a lot. Had she been asleep? She was still repeating those words in the quiescent darkness of the room. What had awakened her? The call of the telephone bell, a long shriek in the black space of the night, answered her question. Still half dazed, she stumbled to the door and into the hall. The telephone was on a little table outside the kitchen. She made her way sat down. “Hello.” “Hello. Is this Brighton 7560?” It was a man’s voice speaking, speaking hurriedly, as if something fearful was knocking behind every word, anxious to come out. “Yes,” Joy steadied her voice. “Joy Nelson speaking.” “Oh, Miss Nelson, is that you—Miss Nelson—I—we’ve had—this is Hal Jennings speaking, Miss Nelson—I’m at the River Hill hospital—we’ve had a—bad accident.” The darkness swayed around Joy as blackness sways when one’s eyes are closed and one presses one’s eyeballs. “Félicie—what of Félicie!” she cried into the mouthpiece. “She—she’s horribly hurt, Miss Nelson. We—we just brought her here. I thought you’d be able to know—to notify——” “Not—not _seriously_ hurt?” Joy gasped, pressing the receiver close to her ear against the frenzy to throw it and its horror far from her. “They don’t know yet—but they say they don’t think so. I—I’d come right up here, if I were you, Miss Nelson.” “I’ll be up as soon as I can get there!” she cried, and started to ring off; but his voice arrested her. “I ordered a taxi sent down for you—it’ll be there any time now.” She put down the receiver and dashed back to her room, where she hurled herself into her clothes, her brain a confusion of terrors which gave way to compelled calm as she finished dressing and put on her hat. She mustn’t lose her head. She mustn’t lose her head—no matter what had happened. She mustn’t wake Madame Durant—when she saw the doctors, she would know what to tell her, how best to soften the shock. She must notify Greg, and she did not know his address. Learning it took going through several of Félicie’s letters. Getting a sleepy Western Union took more breathless moments. She finally sent the message: “Félicie injured in accident, is at River Hill Hospital. Come at once. Joy Nelson.” She glanced at her watch. It was three o’clock. Three o clock in the morning, and a taxi was waiting outside!