“I was about to say,” his even tones went on, “that you pulled the innocent gag fairly well, but a little too frequent. I can stand just about as much, Joy—after which, off come the brakes and away we skid!” He turned and looked at her swiftly. His eyes were bloodshot, and they glittered. She shuddered and shrank away from him to the farthest corner of the car. The last time she had seen eyes with that look in them—it had been at Prom—Jack Barnett, standing unsteadily against the wall. Miles whirled past—while she cowered against the door of the car and thought with such intensity that her hands and feet felt as if they were turned to ice. He was drunk. She should have known before they started. What could she say, to persuade him to turn back—and failing that, what was there she could do? A veering turn into a crossroad brought a protest. “What are we leaving the Shore Road for? Is this the way back?” “This is not the way back. I’m not going to take you back until I’m good and ready—and the devil only knows when that’ll be!” Her agonised scream vibrated above the roar of the motor. “Packy! Take me back! You must! You——” “Save—your—breath!” was jolted back to her, and then he laughed—a long laugh that began and ended in his throat. No more time to think, now—she knew what she must do. Her hands crept out to the knob of the door. Mechanically she looked back and saw a car in the distance—a car that she was dimly conscious had been following them for some time. She could open the door in one second, jump out in another—and before Packy could get back to her, the other car would be upon them—— She turned the knob; Packy saw her at the same minute. With a growl he lurched towards her and seized her by one arm. She struggled violently, and he took his hand from the steering wheel and pulled her back into the seat again. It all happened in one of those seconds of eternity. While they struggled, the car, still going at white-hot speed without a hand at the wheel, careened from the road and was stopped by a tree. A jarring crash which made one aware of every little bone and ligament shivering one’s body; the eerie sensation of flying through space; then—nothingness. * * * * * Pain—nothing but pain—and floating in a dizzy white world full of needles that pricked and hummed—a strange white world in which there was no time to open one’s eyes and look, because of the pain. Agony so fearful that it seemed as if the very universe must be cracking—everything above and beyond must be coming to an end—and yet the white world hummed on, and the needles sang. Always pain—agony so deep that when it became less, the memory of it threw her into agony again. Joy opened her arms and looked around. The white world was gone—she could see familiar pieces of black walnut furniture. And with the white world and humming needles had gone her pain, leaving her so weak she felt as if she scarcely could open her eyes.