They were slippery and uneven, worn and polished by the tread of the many feet which had ascended and descended them, and guarded only by a light hand-rail that seemed almost to quiver in her grasp as, gripped by another unexpected rush of fear, Nan caught at it in feverish haste.
She stood quite still--suddenly panic-stricken.

Here, half-way up the side of the steep promontory, the whole immensity of the surrounding height and depth came upon her in a terrifying flash of realisation.
From below rose the reiterated boom of the baulked waves, each thud against the base of the great crag seeming to shake her whole being, while, whichever way she looked, menacing headlands towered stark and pitiless above the sea.

She felt like a fly on the wall of some abysmal depth--only without the fly's powers of adhesion.
Very carefully she twisted her body sideways, intending to retrace her steps, but in an instant the sight of the surging waters--miles and miles below, as it seemed--sent her crouching to the ground.

She could not go back! She felt as though her limbs were paralysed, and she knew that if she attempted to descend some incalculable force would drive her straight over the edge, hurtling helplessly to the foot of those rugged cliffs.
For a moment she closed her eyes.

Only by dogged force of will could she even retain her present position, half crouching, half lying on the ill-matched steps.