The blood flowed over her hand.

She began to run, stumbling up the path, wondering how she could defend herself if the two lads came back and attacked her together.
Luckily the path turned; her white dress could no longer offer them a mark.
She fled on, and presently found a gap in the low wall of the lane, and a group of fig-trees just beyond it, amid which she crouched.

The shock, the loneliness, the pang of the boys' brutality, had brought a sob into her throat.

Why had her companions left her ?--it was not kind!--till they were sure that the people coming were their expected guests.

Her cheek seemed to be merely grazed, but her wrist was deeply cut.