At the sound of his voice she started back and retreated out of his sight amongst some young Scotch firs growing near the very brink of the precipice.
"I sat down on a bank of grass," Marlow went on.

"She had given me a turn.

The hem of her skirt seemed to float over that awful sheer drop, she was so close to the edge.

An absurd thing to do.

A perfectly mad trick--for no conceivable object! I was reflecting on the foolhardiness of the average girl and remembering some other instances of the kind, when she came into view walking down the steep curve of the road.