“Just beyond that ridge.”
“That all?” she said indifferently. “Thought it was a long way.”
“We’ll coast into the valley,” he replied curtly.
She watched him gliding into the dip of the slope. He was not an expert on runners as her father was, but he had learned the trick of the thing pretty well. It was in line with his thoroughness not to be a novice long at anything he set out to master.
Betty shot down after him, gathering impetus as she went. She was watching the path ahead, and it was not till she was close upon him that she saw Merrick had fallen. She swerved to the left, flinging out her arms to prevent herself from going down. Unsteadily she teetered for a moment, but righted herself with an effort and kept going till she reached the bottom.
Merrick was on his feet when she turned.
“Anything wrong?” she called.
“One of my skis broken.”
She went back to him. “How did it happen?”
“Dipped into a rock under the snow.” His voice was sullen. Like many men who do well whatever they undertake, he resented any mishap due to lack of his own skill. His sense of superiority would have been satisfied if the accident had befallen her instead of him.