Even as she spoke a spurt of foam covered the spot indicated, and the waves dashed over it. She stopped and looked round her, her face white and set.
"We are too late here, too," she said with a smothered sob. "Too late!" and she covered her face with her hands.
The other girl leant against the cliff and stared dully at the angry waves, creeping, creeping like some wild beast towards them.
"You mean we are going to die," she said in a low, harsh voice. "Going to die like rats in a hole. Well," and she shrugged her shoulders, "I don't care much, myself. You see, when you came up just now, I was wishing I was dead."
Leslie shuddered, and put up her hand as if to stop her. Death was too near to be spoken of so lightly.
"Yes, I was. You're shocked, I dessay. I'm sorry for you. It's a pity you didn't stop where you were. You're not tired of life, judging by your face."
"Tired of life!" panted Leslie; "oh, no, no!"
"So I should say," said the other sullenly. "So you don't understand what I mean, and what I feel?"
"No, I don't understand," said Leslie, scarcely knowing what she was saying. "But it is dreadful, dreadful to hear you, and at such a moment. Hah!" She broke off with an exclamation of horror, and drew her companion back close to the face of the cliff, for a wave had dashed at their feet and wet them to the waist.