'What?' asked Miss Durham mockingly, 'looking for one of your bars?'
Philip turned and walked on with her. They had reached the summit, and the ground before them was level. On this track of level mossy moor lay the lake of deep crystal water, in which floated masses of snow or ice, that had slidden from the mountain on the opposite side. Hardly a tree grew here, on this neck, exposed to furious currents of wind.
'May I take your arm?' asked Miss Durham. 'I am heated and tired with this long climb.'
Philip offered her the support she demanded.
'I suppose,' she said, 'that you have not associated much with any but those who are cage-birds?'
He shook his head and coloured slightly.
'Do you know what I am?' she asked abruptly, and turned and looked at him, loosing her hand from his arm.
'I have heard that you are a lady with a large independent fortune.'
'It is not true. I earn my living. I am a singer.'
She saw the surprise in his face, which he struggled to conceal.