and pressed her head further into the cushions against which it rested.
She detested the smell of sal volatile.

"Drink it! Do you hear?"

The voice seemed to drive at her with its ring of command. She opened
her eyes and looked straight up into other eyes--dark-grey ones,
these--that were bent on her intently. To her confused consciousness
they appeared to blaze down at her.

"No," she muttered, feebly trying to push the glass away.

The effort of moving her arm seemed stupendous. Her head swam with it.
The sea of fog came rolling back again, and this time she sank under it
at once.

Then--after an immensity of time, she was sure--she felt herself
struggling up to the surface once more. She was lying rocking gently on
the top of the waves now; the sensation was very peaceful and pleasant.
A little breeze played across her face. She drew in deep breaths of the
cool air, but she did not open her eyes. Presently a murmur of voices
penetrated her consciousness.

"She's coming round again." A man was speaking. "Go on fanning her."

"Poor young thing! She's had a shaking up and no mistake!" This in a
woman's voice, very kindly and commiserating. A hand lightly smoothed
the fur of her coat-sleeve. "Looks as if she was a rich young lady. Her
people must be anxious about her."