She looked horrid.

Not at all like fair fainting damsels, who are always of an interesting pallor.

She was green, like a cheap oyster on a stall.
We did what we could, a prey to alarm as we were.

We rubbed her hands and let the hose play gently but perseveringly on her unconscious brow.
The girls loosened her dress, though it was only the kind that comes down straight without a waist.

And we were all doing what we could as hard as we could, when we heard the click of the front gate.