He felt his head--it was bandaged, and it was bandaged, he was quite sure, with a piece of torn underskirt.

He looked at the man again.

"You haven't told me yet where I am." "Long Island," the other answered.

"My name's Hanson.

I keep a bit of a truck garden here." "Oh," said Jimmie Dale again.
The man crossed the room, picked up an envelope from the table, and came back to Jimmie Dale.
"She said to give you this as soon as you got your senses, and asked us to put you up for a while, as long as you wanted to stay, and paid us for it, too.