me the number. Of course you are; my father's there; injured"
"Marjorie, later I'll call up, when the doctor can have got there." Of course he was struggling only to spare her, but he filled her with greater fear.
"Gregg, did that girl tell you that father is—dying?"
"No; no, Marjorie. Just what you know."
"Then you'll tell me the name where he is! It's too senseless, Gregg; I'm not a child." Then she suddenly defied him. "Why do you suppose you can keep me from my father? I know the address; 4689 Clearedge Street. I could make 'information' give me the number there. But I shan't; it'll take too long. I'll go there; where's Billy?"
She looked about, with an effort of memory recalling where they were and what they had been doing. Music and the quick rhythm of the dance came from above and Marjorie gathered herself and made a determined start for the stairs.
Gregg caught her wrist and turned her to him, while he pleaded, "Wait here, Marjorie. I'll bring Bill down. You mustn't go upstairs looking like that."
"You will get him?" she challenged him, directly.
"Yes," he promised.
"All right; I'll stay here. I must call Leonard, anyway, and get him to come back here now; and I suppose I must call mother and give her some sort of warning; poor mother."
Gregg's clasp on her wrist tightened. "Don't!" he said.
"Not call mother? Oh, of course, I'd rather not just yet—till we know more. I'll just call Leonard, then."
