Mere
specks. . . . He took up his glasses. The specks resolved themselves
into the figures of Mrs. Meadows and Mr. Muhlen.
The devil! he thought. What's the meaning of this?
They were moving up and down, at the same spot where he had moved up
and down with her. They seemed to be on friendly terms with one
another. Excellent terms. It looked as if they were laughing now and
then, and stopping occasionally to glance at something, some book or
other object, which the lady carried in her hand. The devil! At times
his cousin seemed to be dangerously near the edge--he caught his breath,
remembering that sensation of giddiness, of gulping terror, with which
he had watched the falcon swaying crazily over the abyss. She was
enjoying it, to all appearances. Then, as they retraced their steps, it
was the man's turn to take the outside of the path. He suffered as
little as she did, evidently, from vertigo. Laughing, and
gesticulating. The devil! What were they talking about? What were they
doing there, at this impossible hour of the day? Five or six times they
went to and fro; and then, suddenly, something happened before Mr.
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