Mile by mile they hastened back across the plain,–on their right the blue sea of water, with its white-caps and spray; on their left the yellow sea of fire, with its dun fog of smoke.
Once only had Blake looked back to see if the girl was following. After that he swung along, with down-bent head, his gaze upon the ground. Even when he passed in under the grove and around the pool to the foot of the cleft, he began the ascent without waiting to assist her up the break in the path. The girl came after, her lips firm, her eyes bright and expectant. She drew herself up the ledge as though she had been bred to mountain climbing.
Inside the barricade Blake was waiting to close the opening. She crept through, and rose to catch him by the sleeve.
“Tom, look at me,” she said. “Once I was most unjust to you in my thoughts. I wronged you. Now I must tell you that I think you are the bravest–the noblest man–”
“Get away!” he exclaimed, and he shook off her hand roughly. “Don’t be a fool! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But I do, Tom. I believe that you are–”
“I’m a blackguard–do you hear?”
“No blackguard is brave. The way you faced that terrible beast–”
“Yes, blackguard–to’ve gone and shown to you that I–to’ve let you say a single word–Can’t you see? Even if I’m not what you call a gentleman, I thought I knew how any man ought to treat a woman–but to go and let you know, before we’d got back among people!”
“But–but, Tom, why not, if we–”