She recognized the stranger that stood before her; he'd been the one whohad approached her in the bar. His lip was split. There was blood on hischin, soaking his shirt and tie.She gritted her teeth, flexed her jaw, set her eyes into a determinedglare of hate and told him, "I won't tell you anything about him."The man smiled tenderly, his teeth stained with blood. "That's fine."She was ushered from the plank-way, back into the port, through dozensof men in security uniforms.She wrapped her arms around herself and was astonished to feel the man'ssuit jacket placed over her shoulders.She looked at him with defiance. "You'll never catch him."The man nodded. "We weren't after him."She blinked, but before she could say another word, he raised the scopeand blinded her with the flashing light. She felt her mind give way andfell forward into his open arms.# # #"How are you feeling?"She opened her eyes. Blinked. Saw the man from the bar."How are you feeling?"Sleepily, she sighed. "Fine, thank. Some of the other women had hurt her, but Mrs Patterson's strength and fury were a revelation both to the by now silent onlookers and to the suffering Julia. Everybody expected the poor girl, whose incredible and defiant bravery had captured their absolute and unstinting admiration by this time, to faint away at any moment. Finally the ordeal was over. Mrs Patterson laid down the strop, breathing heavily after her exertion, into which she had thrown her all."How did you loike that you dirty, stuck up, toffee nosed little tart?" asked this far from amiable lady as soon as she had sufficiently recovered her breath."I hardly felt a thing, you feeble cripple. And how do you like THIS?"Those who witnessed what followed were to talk it over among themselves for years afterwards. So much seemed to happen in such a minuscule atom of time, that nobody could ever take it in or call it back to mind in any but the sketchiest of detail. The bent over Julia straightened up and wheeled round. Before.
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