intruders, and they were pursuing her. She heard the stamp and scuffle of
running feet that were not too sure of their stability, and with the
sound something very like panic entered into Juliet. Her heart jolted
within her, and the impulse to flee like a hunted hare was for a second
almost too urgent to be withstood. That she did withstand it was a matter
for life-long thankfulness in her estimation. The temptation was great,
but she did not spring from the stock that runs away. She pulled herself
up sharply with burning cheeks, and deliberately turned and waited.

They came up the path, yelling like hounds on a scent, while she stood
perfectly erect and motionless, facing them. There were five of them,
hulking youths all inflamed by drink if not actually tipsy, and they came
around her with shouts of idiotic laughter and incoherent joking,
evidently taking her for a village girl.

She stood her ground with her back to the cliff-edge, not yielding an
inch, contempt in every line. "Will you kindly go your way," she said,
"and allow me to go mine?"

They responded with yells of derision, and one young man, emboldened by
the jeers of his companions, came close to her and leered into her face
of rigid disdain. "I'm damned if I won't have a kiss first!" he swore,
and flung a rough arm about her.

Juliet moved then with the fierce suddenness of a wild thing trapped. She
wrenched herself from him in furious disgust.

"You hound!" she began to say. But the word was never fully uttered, for
as it sprang to her lips, it went into a desperate cry. The ground had
given way beneath her feet, and she fell straight backwards over that