"Yes, I know there are moderate drinkers, but girls brought up carefully, as Winifred has been, have nevertheless come to know the terrorism of old John Barleycorn. She lives near a great artery of automobile traffic. Most of it perfectly respectable, but some of it vile and besotted. She reads the Riverhead paper probably, and a magazine of some sort, appealing to her feminine viewpoint. In other words, now that she is a business woman, her vision has enlarged, and not a day goes by that she does not witness something that reminds her that she is opposed to drunkards. But she is sorry for them, nevertheless. Given her choice, she surely would not associate with a man who drinks."
"Undoubtedly Parkins had been drinking. Dr. Benton admitted as much to me," volunteered Villard. "The odor was still on his breath."
"Yes, but Winifred may not have sensed it, for Parkins uses the old fashioned eau de cologne on his lips, eyebrows, handkerchief, and his hair always smells of pomade and tonic. A country girl might easily believe that perfume used by a fascinating fellow like Parkins was quite the thing, but no girl would sit beside a man who drove into a curve at a fifty or sixty mile gait without sensing danger—would she?"
"I dare say no sophisticated girl would—probably no girl, sophisticated or otherwise, would fail of being apprehensive," agreed Villard.
"Very well—now comes the point you originated. You asked me to guess what she will say when she comes to her senses. She will not say what you think she will. The last thing she thought about just as the cars collided will be the thoughts she will wake up with."
"Sounds logical," agreed Villard.
"Statistics prove it in hundreds of cases. As her senses left her she felt a shock akin to death," said Updyke, soberly. "And as she went into what looked to be certain death she must have wondered if Parkins was insane. It was all so sudden, her thoughts may not have been entirely formulated, but even in the zone of coma the brain functions in a weird sort of way, incomprehensible to the victim, but remembered afterward—if the victim survives."
"Doctor Benton thinks a little soft music from the organ might be helpful in bringing her out of her present state. Under your theory it might not help," said Villard. "Would you experiment?"
"Surely I would," exclaimed Updyke, "but I'd soft pedal at the start. As I understand the situation she hasn't opened her eyes since the accident, therefore I would go slow in startling her sensibilities for the present."
"I'm going to make a confession, Henry, but don't say anything to the doctor about it when he comes in shortly. My housekeeper and I stood by her bedside and she was so beautiful I said to Mrs. Bond, 'I wish she would open her eyes'—I hadn't seen them, you know, although I had held her in my arms for awhile just after the accident—and all the way home. Well, believe it or not, I'll be switched if the little creature didn't do it—and by jinks—she seemed to recognize me!"