“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. Once in the cold keen air Fan began to recover strength and confidence, but she was still too weak to walk fast, and when they had got to the long road where the benches were, she was compelled to sit down and rest for some time. “Where are you going after I leave you at the station?” asked the woman. “To London--to Westbourne Park.” “And then?” “I don't know--I can't think. Oh, please leave me here!” “No, my dear, I'll see you in your train at the station.” “Perhaps _he_'ll be there,” said Fan, in sudden fear. “Oh no, bless you, _he_ won't be there. He didn't mean any harm, don't you believe it. We were only going to shut you up in the house just for a few days because Miss Starbrow wanted us to.” “Miss Starbrow!” “Why, yes; didn't you get her telegram telling you to come to Twickenham to her, and that I'd meet you at the station?” “Yes, I remember. Where is she?” “The Lord knows, my dear. But it seems she's taken a great hatred to you, and can't abide you, and that's all I know. She came this morning with Captain Horton, and they arranged it all together; and she telegraphed and then went away, and said she hated the very sight of your face; and hoped I'd keep you safe because she never wanted to see you again, and was sorry she ever took you.” “But why--why--what had I done?” moaned Fan, the tears coming to her eyes. “There's no knowing why, except that she's a cruel, wicked, bad woman. That's all I know about it. Where is the telegram--have you got it?” Fan put her hand into her pocket and then drew it out again. “No, I haven't got it; I gave it to Rosie before I left--I remember now she asked me for it when I was in the cab.” “That's all right; it doesn't matter a bit. But tell me, where are you going when you get back to London--back to Miss Starbrow?”