Beryl made no reply; her face wore a sullen, proud look, which it was not pleasant to see. When she was dressed, she went down to the beach again. Coral had ceased to cry, and was playing there very contentedly.
Beryl passed her without vouchsafing her even a look, and went to some rocks at a little distance, where she sat down and stared sulkily at the sea. Beryl was quite conscious of her own naughtiness, but felt disposed to encourage it and prolong it as much as possible.
Presently Coral, finding it dull to play alone, came timidly to the place where Beryl sat.
"Beryl," she said, trying to appear oblivious of past occurrences, "won't you come and play with me?"
For a moment Beryl felt inclined to dismiss her vexation and yield to Coral's wish, but pride and ill-temper reasserted themselves.
"No," she said crossly; "I don't care to play with a stupid little thing like you. You can go away."
"You ought not to call me stupid," replied Coral, her dark eyes flashing angrily; "you are a bad girl."
And she raised her hand and struck Beryl.
The blow did not hurt Beryl in the least, but in her present mood it was more than her pride could endure.
"How dare you!" she cried, turning upon Coral, with her face aglow with passion, and giving the child such a violent push as made her fall with her face on the rough stones.