terribly, unspeakably, ineffably impressive. I come here every day,
and sit close on the sands, and look out upon the sea by the edge of
the breakers. It's the only place on this awful coast one feels
perfectly safe in. You can't tumble over here, or...roll anything down
to do harm to anybody."

A steep cliff path led up the sheer face of the rock to southward. It
was a difficult path, a mere foothold on the ledges; but its
difficulty at once attracted the engineer's attention. "Let's go up
that way!" he said, waving his hand toward it carelessly. "The view
from on top there must be infinitely finer."

"I believe it is," Tyrrel replied, in an unconcerned voice, like one
who retails vague hearsay evidence. "I haven't seen it myself since I
was a boy of thirteen. I never go along the top of the cliffs on any
account."

Le Neve gazed down on him, astonished. "You BELIEVE it is!" he
exclaimed, unable to conceal his surprise and wonder. "You never go up
there! Why, Walter, how odd of you! I was reading up the Guidebook
this morning before breakfast, and it says the walk from this point on
the Penmorgan estate to Kynance Cove is the most magnificent bit of
wild cliff scenery anywhere in Cornwall."

"So I'm told," Tyrrel answered, unmoved. "And I remember, as a boy, I
thought it very fine. But that was long since. I never go by it."

"Why not?" Le Neve cried.

Tyrrel shrugged his shoulders and shook himself impatiently. "I don't