This rejoiced her. But after leaving the shop she had a singular
expression on her face--something more than weariness, something
less than anxiety, something other than calculation. In front of
Charing Cross Station she stopped, looking vaguely about her.
Perhaps she had it in her mind to return home by omnibus, and was
dreading the expense. Yet of a sudden she turned and went up the
approach to the railway.

At the entrance again she stopped. Her features were now working in
the strangest way, as though a difficulty of breathing had assailed
her. In her eyes was an eager yet frightened look; her lips stood
apart.

Another quick movement, and she entered the station. She went
straight to the door of the refreshment room, and looked in through
the glass. Two or three people were standing inside. She drew back,
a tremor passing through her.

A lady came out. Then again Virginia approached the door. Two men
only were within, talking together. With a hurried, nervous
movement, she pushed the door open and went up to a part of the
counter as far as possible from the two customers. Bending forward,
she said to the barmaid in a voice just above a whisper,--

'Kindly give me a little brandy.'

Beads of perspiration were on her face, which had turned to a
ghastly pallor. The barmaid, concluding that she was ill, served her
promptly and with a sympathetic look.