"It's the one I always take, dear Mrs. Potts; it's the one I wanted Sir
Basil to see, it's so far the lovelier. One gets the most wonderful, steep
views down into far depths of blue," Imogen, perched like a slender
Valkyrie on the summit of a crag above, thus addressed her perturbed
friend.
She couldn't really but be amused by Mrs. Potts's pertinacity, for, not
yet relinquishing her purpose, she continued, in silence now, her lips
compressed, her forehead beaded with moisture, to scale the difficult way,
showing a resolute nimbleness amazing in one so ill-formed for feats of
agility. Sir Basil gave her a succoring hand while Imogen soared ahead,
confident of the moment when Mrs. Potts, perforce, must fall back.
"Tiresome woman!" she thought, but she couldn't help smiling while she
thought it, and heard Mrs. Potts's deep breath laboring up behind her. It
was, perhaps, rather a shame to balk her in this way; but, after all, she
was to have a full fortnight of Sir Basil and she, Imogen, felt that
on this day, the day of a new friendship, Sir Basil's claim on her was
paramount. She had something for him, a light, a strengthening, and she
must keep the hour sacred to that stir of awakening. Among the pines and
laurels she would say a few more words of help to him. So that Mrs. Potts
must be made to go.
The moment came. A shoulder of rock overhung the way and the only passage
was over its almost perpendicular surface.
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