She became in an instant conscious of the grievous pangs of a body which seemed to have been flung back to her in a damaged state.

It ached all over.

Her head throbbed with a dull buzzing sound, and she was so tired that she could hardly stand.

She felt as if she must lie down--in the street, anywhere.
And she was tormented by thirst.

But she still kept on.
She found herself, after a while, by one of those little backwaters which are the salvation of strangers to London: a green railed square, with trees and fountains, and a quiet pavement where a street artist was drawing bright pictures with crayons.