"Don't you be afraid any more, my dear," she said effusively. "I'll take
you back to the station as soon as you're well enough to walk. You've had
a fall against the table and hurt yourself a little, but you'll soon be
all right."

Fan looked at her and shrunk away as she approached, and then turned her
eyes, dilating again with fear, towards the door.

"He's gone, my dear, and won't come near you again, so don't you fear.
Sit down quietly and I'll make you a cup of tea, and then you'll be able
to walk to the station."

But Fan would not be reassured, and continued piteously begging the woman
to let her out.

"Very well, you shall go out; only take a little brandy first to give you
strength to walk."

Fan thrust the flask away, and then putting her hand to her forehead,
cried out:

"Oh, what's this on my head?"

"Only a bit of sticking-plaster where you hit yourself against the table,
my dear."

Then she smoothed out Fan's broken hat, and with a wet sponge cleaned the
bloodstains from her gown, and finally opening the door and with the bag
in her hand, she accompanied the girl out.