Jean ran to the foot of the stair and hastened up it till he reached the gap. Further he could not proceed—a step had been dislodged; the next remained intact. Then came another break, a second step in place, and then the third break. Above that stood the girl, swinging the long-handled mallet with which she had loosened the wedges and struck down the steps they held up. She was a handsome girl with dusky skin, but warm with blood under it, dark loose hair, and large deep brown eyes. She stood, athletic, graceful, poised on her stage, swaying the hammer, looking defiantly, insolently, at the youth, with lips half open and pouting.
"Do you know what you are about, madcap?" said he.
"Perfectly. Making you keep your distance, fool."
"Keep distance!" said the youth. "I had no thought of you. I was not pursuing you—I did not know you were here!"
"And now I have woke you to see me."
"What of that? You had acted like a mad thing. I cannot help you, I cannot leap to you. Nothing would make me do so."
"Nothing? Not if I said, 'Come, assist me down'?"
"I could not leap the space. See you—if one step only were thrown down I might venture, but not when every alternate one between us is missing. To leap up were to ensure my fall at the next gap."
"I do not need your help. I can descend. I can spring from one step to the next over the gaps."
"And risk a fall and a broken neck?"