The situation was beyond her.

An involuntary exclamation of dismay escaped her, an inarticulate sound that seemed physically wrung from her; and then, without a second glance, ignominiously she turned and fled.
The sound of Hunt-Goring's oily laugh followed her as she went, and added speed to her flying feet.
It was several minutes later that Max entered the surgery, carrying an armful of stockings, and found her scrubbing her face vigorously over the basin that was kept there.

She had turned on the hot water, and a cloud of steam arose above her head.
"Don't scald yourself!" said Max.

"Try the pumice!" "Oh, go away!" gasped Olga, with a furious stamp.
"Not going," said Max.
He fetched out a clean towel, and placed it within her reach.

Then he sat down on the table and waited, whistling below his breath.
Olga grabbed the towel at last and buried her face in it.