Her feet slipped from her, and she fell in a sitting posture on the bottom of the boat, while part of her dress hung in the water.
"Bother the women!" cried Per, who had told her at least a hundred times not to jump; "now you have hurt yourself." "No," answered she.
"Yes, you have." "Well, just a little," she replied, looking stubbornly at him as the tears came into her eyes; for she really had bruised her leg severely.
"Let me see," said Per.
"No, you shan't!" she answered, arranging her dress over her.
Per began to make for the shore.
"What are you going to do ?" "Going to get some brandy to rub your foot." "That you certainly shan't." "Well, then, you shan't go with me," answered Per.
"Very well, then; let me get out." And before the boat quite touched the ground, she sprang on to the shore, climbed on to the breakwater, and went hurriedly off homewards.
She clenched her teeth with the pain as she went, but still without raising her eyes from the ground she followed the well-known path.

As she passed in front of the boat-houses, she had to step over oars, tar-barrels, old swabs, and all sorts of rubbish, which was scattered among the boats.

All around lay the claws of crabs and the half-decayed heads of codfish, in which the gorged and sleepy flies were crawling in and out of the eye-sockets.
She reached the lighthouse without turning her head; she was determined not to look back at him.

At the top, however, she was obliged to pause to get her breath; she surely might look and see how far he got.
Madeleine knew that the other fishermen had had a long start, and expected, therefore, to find Per's boat far behind, between the others and the shore.

But it was not to be seen, neither there nor in the harbour.