Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1920-11-12
Fate at the Wheel
By HART

" AANAA 4 AAAhA IteNAAA1O ~ ~ NSA
seriousness of things around him he
realized two things: one was the pain
that beat with maddening insistence
at the back of his head, the other was
the presence of a soft hand that rested
lightly on his brow and a soothing
voice that spoke words of pity in his
ear. He opened his eyes painfully but
found the glare of the sunlight too
much for him and closed them again.
Desperately he tried to reconstruct the
incidents that led to his present state.
There had been a long stretch of
white rOad-he remembered that per-
fectly-that had challenged the young
blood in his veins and the siXty-hOrse.
power under his hands to their ut
most. Yes, and he had responded to
the challenge; he remembered seeing
the number 65 crawl into sight in the
little oblong opening of the speedom-
eter; 65-70-73; could he make rs?
And then 49,.
He seemed to remember a slight
turn in the road-such a turn as he
was accustomed to look at with con-
tempt. But there was a little side
slip sOmehOw-and then he didn't re-
member any more. strive as he might,
He groaned at the futility of his effort.
"Does it hurt so much?" The soft
voice was speaking. The voice surely
had no part in his recollections. He
opened his eyes again and this time
forced them to stay open despite the
pain 1t caused him. And he told him
self, shaken as he was, that it was
worth the trouble.
He was lying on a mlraculously
smooth greensward that was as soft
as a mattress TO his aching limbs, and
under his head was a smooth white
arm, while a slim hand kept up its
soothing m~inistrations. And very near
to his own face was a tender pair of
eyes and q gently curving mouth that
expressed all that ministering angels
are supposed to be. This miraculous
apparition was kneeling by him and
comforting him. He tried to struggle
into a sitting posture and almost
shrieked at the sudden stab of pain
that the effort cost him. And then
he was aware of another presence
a masculine presence on the other
side. who spoke grufHy the while it
delved in a little black bag that clinked
ominously. The stabbing pain repeat
ed itself and despite his efforts he
moaned. The masculine presence was
speaking again.
eve can't nov him like this" it
said. "NVait a minute"
Arthur Stanley saw a hand holding
a handkerchief pushed under his nose.
smelt a sickish-sweetish odOr, took a
couple of convulsive gasps and-knew
no more.
When he awoke he was in a cool.
white bed in a cool, white room, and
the divinity of a few minutes-or was
It hours?-before was bending over
him.
"Wh-where am II" he queried weak
ly. "And hOw-how did I get here?"
"Sh-sh! The doctor said you mustn't
talk. If you'll lie still I'll tell you
how it happened"
11t WAS Ill Il ll1OOd " ~ elA1Ag Gc tllN
slightest movement racked his body
with strange and unaCcustomed pains,
and he listened motiOnlesS as she told
him how she had been sitting on the
piazza reading when she had heard a
fearful crash and saw his body come
hurting through the hedge that divid-
ed her place from the road; how she
had been alone at the time except for
an old gardener who pottered around
the place: how she had sent him on
q run for the doctor while she minis
tered such first aid as she could, and
finally how she had had him moved
to a room in the house instead of to
the hospital when examination had
disclosed no necessity for an opera
tion-merely a setting of some broken
bones and complete rest.
"But-but where I'M 1? And who
are your" He seemed to be STRIVING
to bring a hating memory within the
boundaries of his control.
She laughed deliciously.
81 knew you wouldn't remember me-
she said. "We met last winter at the
Dalrymple's ball at the Ritz-but I
was only a little 't1apper' then, and
I was awfully glad to get a chance to
dance with you-oh, yes, I knew you
then-by reputation-but you didn't
know me. Don't you remember Con
stance Whitney,"
1t came back to him In great lantern
fashes-the glittering ball, the round
of dances with girls he knew and
cared nothing for, and the one dance
that had stuck in his memory-a waltz
with a dreamy-eyed little girl who
danced as though she were the spirit
of the music itself-a little girl classed
only as a "sub-deb," but who had made
more impression on him than any of
the other girls he had met hat night.
He remembered how he had inquired
about her, only to find out that her
family had taken her off to Europe
for the season; and then she had