"We're drivin to Paradise," said Jonas. And as to this remark she made no response, he explained—"Married life, you know."
She said nothing.
"It rather looks as if we were going down to the other place," he observed, with a sarcastic laugh. "But there it is, one or the other—all depends on you. It's just as you make it; as likely to be one as the other. Give me that fifteen pounds—and Paradise is the word."
"Indeed, Jonas, do you not understand that I cannot go against father's will and my word?"
The road, or rather track, descended along the steep side of the Punch-Bowl, notched into the sand falling away rapidly on the left hand, on which side sat Mehetabel.
At first she had distinguished nothing below in the blackness, but now something like a dead man's eye looked out of it, and seemed to follow and observe her.
"What is that yonder?" she asked.
"Wot is wot?" he asked in reply.
"That pale white light—that round thing glimmerin' yonder?"
"There's water below," was his explanation of the phenomenon.