She shivered in her light dress, but turned inwards resolutely.
"Tenez!" exclaimed the Frenchman, quick to catch her mood. "I will go to find the good Cinders. He is not far."
"And leave me!" said Chris quickly.
"Eh bien! Let us remain here."
"And leave Cinders!" said Chris.
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then stooped without further words and kindled his lamp.
The rain was still beating in fierce grey gusts over the sea and pattering heavily upon the shingle. The waves broke with a sullen roaring. Evidently a gale was rising.
Chris, with her face to the darkness of the cave, shivered again. Somehow her spirit of adventure was dashed.
The flame of Bertrand's lamp shone vaguely inwards, revealing a narrow passage that wound between rugged cliff-walls into darkness. The rock gleamed black and shiny on all sides. Underfoot were stones of all shapes and sizes, worn smooth by the sea.
"What a ghastly place!" whispered Chris, and something seemed to catch the whisper and repeat it sibilantly a great many times as if learning it off by heart.