“You did n't know he was a rotter, did you?”
The word smote Stellamaris like a foul thing. She shivered. Mrs. Risca kept her eyes fixed on her for a few seconds until, as it were, some inspired thought flashed into them a gleam of joy.
“It 's jolly lucky for you that you did n't know. There 's a nice little drop from here down to the rocks. I 've been here often before.”
Stella sprang to her feet and thrust her hands against the woman's breast. .
“Let me pass! Let me pass!” she cried wildly.
But the woman barred the downward path. A few steps beyond the bench it narrowed quickly upward until it merged into the cliff-side.
“I'm not going to. You've got to stay here,” said Mrs. Risca, seizing Stella's wrists in a grip in which the girl's frail strength was powerless. “If you struggle and make a fuss, you 'll have us both chucked over. Don't be silly.”
Then Stella, calling to her aid her pride and courage, drew herself up and looked the evil woman in the face.
“Very well. Say what you have to say. I will listen to you.”
“That 's sensible,” said Mrs. Risca, dropping her wrists. “I don't see why you should have gone on so. I only wanted to speak to you for your good and your happiness. You sit down there, and I 'll sit here, and we 'll have a nice, long talk about John.”