Very soon he did return and sat down again. "A pint and a screw, that's
all I want," he said, as if speaking to himself, and there was no answer.
Then he got up, put his hand on her shoulder, and almost shook her out of
her chair. "Don't you hear?" he shouted.

"Let me alone, you drunken brute; I've got nothing, I tell you," she
returned, and after watching his face a few moments settled down again.

"All right, old woman, I'll leave you," he said, dropping his hands. But
suddenly changing his mind, he swung round and dealt her a heavy blow.

She sprang up with a scream of anger and pain, and taking no notice of
Fan's piteous cries and pleadings, rushed at him; they struggled together
for some moments, but the man was the strongest; very soon he flung her
violently from him, and reeling away to some distance, and unable to
recover her balance, she finally fell heavily on to the floor.

"Oh, mother, mother, he has killed you," sobbed Fan, throwing herself
down beside the fallen woman and trying to raise her head.

"That I will, and you too," remarked the man, going back to his seat.

The woman, recovering from the shock, struggled to her feet and sat down
again on her chair. She was silent, looking now neither angry nor
frightened, but seemed half-dazed, and bending forward a little she
covered her eyes with her hand.

"Oh, mother, poor mother--are you hurt?" whispered Fan, trying to draw
the hand away to look into the bowed face.