"No--I guess--" He choked.

"The paper--it's in--my pocket"-- and he went down unconscious on the floor of the car.
When he recovered his senses he was lying on a couch in a plainly furnished room, and a man, a stranger, red, jovial-faced, farmerish looking, was bending over him.
"Where am I ?" he demanded finally, propping himself up on his elbow.
"You're all right," replied the man.

"She said you'd come around in a little while." "Who said so ?" inquired Jimmie Dale.
"She did.

The woman who brought you here about five minutes ago.

She said she ran you down with her car." "Oh!" said Jimmie Dale.