She had heard footsteps behind her in the dark street, horrible stealthy footsteps which had caused terror to rush over her like a flood, and sent her flying along the street to her one haven.

As she ran she had felt a touching faith in the security of her room, if she could reach it.

Out there, in the open street, it had seemed impregnable, like a fortress.
Now as she sat there she had a revulsion of feeling.

The room was not safe, the house was not safe.

Not now.