As they slowly left the scene of the accident, the girl noticed that the arm of the youth nearest to her swung helplessly at every jolt of the car. Taking the hand in her own, she lifted it into her lap. When she released it, there was a faint movement as if the fingers searched for her own. Knowing him to be suffering, Virginia regrasped his hand and it seemed to her that there came an answering pressure as of appreciation. Yet woe descended anew upon the girl. The youth could not walk. He could not talk. As she looked at his grotesquely postured body, she became convinced that he was dying. The doctor's remarks were to cheer her. No one could forecast the results of such an accident. The victim might pass away in the car. He was so young to die, a mere boy. She had killed him. Such thoughts were overwhelming her with fear when they reached the hospital. In the reception room of the institution, she awaited in dread the outcome of a more thorough examination. As she looked about her, there was nothing in the furnishing of the apartment to distinguish it from thousands of others except the faint, sickening odor of ether which told its own story. A most attractive young woman in a nurse's uniform came across the hall from a small office opposite. "Were you with the emergency case Dr. Millard brought?" she asked. Virginia thought the blonde curls, beneath the cap, very attractive. Also she approved of the hazel eyes. They seemed sympathetic and the overwrought girl longed for that. "I came with a motorcyclist who was hurt. I don't know the doctor's name," she responded. "If you can give me the information about the patient I will fill out his card." Virginia looked at the nurse in astonishment. "Why I don't know him. I never met him until he ran into our car." "A violent introduction," giggled the nurse, and then, more seriously, "I am glad that it is not your husband." "_Husband_," gasped Virginia, "on a _motorcycle_." Her face reddened in an embarrassment the absurdity of which provoked her. The nurse broke into a gale of soft laughter. "They come in automobiles, on motorcycles and on foot. Evidently, you don't care for those on motorcycles." She considered a moment. "I don't blame you. He would have so many accidents that you would never know whether you were wife or widow." Virginia was uncomfortable. The strain of the most exciting day in her life was telling. The mischievous eyes of the nurse were not helping matters. "I think that I am quite young to be married," the girl announced with a prim dignity meant to suppress this frivolous person. That sophisticated young woman shook anew with amusement. "Oh, I don't know. Have a look at our maternity ward." The shot went wide of the mark with Virginia. "Oh," she exclaimed, with rapturous interest, "I'd love to. That's where you keep the babies, isn't it? I adore them."