She leaned far forward in the winged chair, and suddenly above the rush and clamour of the wind the telephone rang out, loudly and urgently. Again—again. She sat quite still, with lifted hand, her incredulous eyes frozen on the small black messenger blaring out its summons, the receiver fairly quivering on the hook. Again—again—strident and insistent—again. Devon rose slowly to his feet.
“I’ll answer it.”
“No,” breathed Anne. “No.”
“It’s probably Headquarters again.”
“No,” she whispered. “No—no—it’s not Headquarters again.”
She stumbled out of the chair, clinging to the arms, groping, uncertain, like someone suddenly gone blind, and then in a swift rush she was past him, and the telephone was fast in her hands.
“Yes,” she said clearly. “Long distance—yes, I know.... It’s Anne, dear, it’s Anne.... I can’t hear—it’s so far away—can’t you speak louder? Please, please.... Can you hear me? Can you?... Listen—listen.... I can’t hear very well—listen—you were going to tell me about the party. Remember?... The party—you were going to explain.... No—no—no—I can’t hear.... Make me hear—make me hear—say it again!... No, no, don’t go—no, you can’t go.... No! Derry! Derry!”
The terrible cry tore through the room like something unchained, and Devon sprang to her.
“Take your hands away,” she panted. “Don’t dare—don’t dare.... Central!” She jangled the hook frenziedly. “Central—you cut me off.... Central.... No, no, I won’t excuse it—never, never.... Get him back, I tell you—get him back.... No, I don’t know the number.... No—you mustn’t say that—you can help me.... You can....” She was weeping terribly, throwing back her head to keep her lips clear of the flooding tears, stammering desperately, “No—no.... It was long distance, I tell you—long distance—long——”
Her voice rose—fell—was suddenly and startlingly silent. After a long moment she let the receiver slip from her fingers; it swung limply across the blue-green draperies while she stood very straight, holding the telephone against her heart.