over again.

The first thing I remember, after my whirligig flight over the Paris
pavement, is a crowd of faces above me and someone pawing at my collar
and holding my wrist. This someone, a man, a stranger, said in French:

"He is not dead, Mademoiselle."

And then a voice, a voice that I seemed to recognize, said:

"You are sure, Doctor? You are sure? Oh, thank God!"

I tried to turn my head toward the last speaker--whom I decided, for
some unexplainable reason, must be Hephzy--and to tell her that of
course I wasn't dead, and then all faded away and there was another
blank.

The next interval of remembrance begins with a sense of pain, a
throbbing, savage pain, in my head and chest principally, and a wish
that the buzzing in my ears would stop. It did not stop, on the contrary
it grew louder and there was a squeak and rumble and rattle along with
it. A head--particularly a head bumped as hard as mine had been--might
be expected to buzz, but it should not rattle, or squeak either.
Gradually I began to understand that the rattle and squeak were external
and I was in some sort of vehicle, a sleeping car apparently, for I
seemed to be lying down. I tried to rise and ask a question and a hand
was laid on my forehead and a voice--the voice which I had decided was
Hephzy's--said, gently:

"Lie still. You mustn't move. Lie still, please. We shall be there
soon."

Where "there" might be I had no idea and it was too much trouble to ask,
so I drifted off again.

Next I was being lifted out of the car; men were lifting me--or trying
to. And, being wider awake by this time, I protested.

"Here! What are you doing?" I asked. "I am all right. Let go of me. Let
go, I tell you."

Again the voice--it sounded less and less like Hephzy's--saying:

"Don't! Please don't! You mustn't move."

But I kept on moving, although moving was a decidedly uncomfortable
process.

"What are they doing to me?" I asked. "Where am I? Hephzy, where am I?"

"You are at the hospital. You have been hurt and we are taking you to
the hospital. Lie still and they will carry you in."

That woke me more thoroughly.

"Nonsense!" I said, as forcefully as I could. "Nonsense! I'm not badly
hurt. I am all right now. I don't want to go to a hospital. I won't go
there. Take me to the hotel. I am all right, I tell you."

The man's voice--the doctor's, I learned afterward--broke in, ordering
me to be quiet. But I refused to be quiet. I was not going