That was about the reasoning of her mind if it were analysed--but, of course, it all passed like a flash of realization, she did not reason. Then she began again, and had gone up in the same way another five feet, hardly more, when a sick feeling of fright seemed to choke her--she could not get higher. She had come to a place that was so steep as to be practically a wall. It was like that for some ten feet, after which it looked easier--but just here it was sheer. She must try and get round it, as it were--shift herself and the boy along. To that end it would be better to explore alone first--find out where her best road lay and come back for Reube? The question was dare she leave him, would he move if he returned to consciousness, and roll down into the sea.
She was considering her position, when she heard a call--actually a human call.
A wave of passionate thankfulness swept over her--nearly as possible she burst out crying from sheer relief. Who--who could it be?
Then she saw.
Rather above, and a good deal to her left, was a figure making towards them in a swift and capable manner.
Pamela was just going to answer with a cry of welcome, when a sense of dazed confusion checked her, and for several moments she remained just staring with an uneasy suspicion that she might have "gone off her head" from the strain.
For the person coming down towards her was the double of herself. No less, apparently.
Pamela looked away--shut her eyes, opened them and stared down at the sea, moving everlastingly through the shifting haze of the white fog. Everything was the same. Reube was still unconscious. She glanced at the poor foot, it still seemed the wrong way round. Then she looked back at the girl, and saw--certainly herself--to all appearance.
A tall slim creature in a blue serge skirt, tan stockings, tan shoes, a Japanese silk blouse, and chamois leather gauntlet gloves. It was almost a relief to realize that she wore a dark knitted tam-o'-shanter--which Pam was not wearing that day, though she often wore one. Over the shoulder of this double hung a thick plait of lovely bright hair. Pamela glanced down at her own plait to compare them, and her sudden thought was--
"Hers is lighter."