felt as though she'd received a slap in the face.
"Oh—but why?" she cried.
"Because," Miss Asprey's voice was like tinkling ice—"she is of a different disposition to yourself. I don't want her to be over-excited—or grow restless. Believe me, I have her welfare at heart."
Joan gazed resentfully at the ivory profile against the burning blue sky. It was so bleak, so purged of human passion—that she was reminded of the mental detachment of the Inquisition, when it tortured bodies to gain souls.
"Oh, very well," she said coldly. "I won't ask her."
A few yards lower down, she gave a little cry.
"Hang. I've lost my brooch."
"I don't think so," said Miss Asprey. "You were not wearing a brooch."
"But I was," persisted Joan. "Miss Mack warned me that the pin wasn't too safe."
"In that case," remarked Miss Asprey, with a perceptible tightening of her well-cut lips, "you have probably lost it on your climb. It may be on the top, where you lay down. We'll go back and search for it."
"No, thanks," said Joan quickly. "It's worth twopence."
"But even a twopenny brooch has that value. As you're so tired, sit down, and I'll go back for it."
Joan bit her lip as she staggered to her feet.
'She only wants to humiliate me,' she thought. 'I'm going, too, if it kills me. She saw that I resented Miss Mack—and she is going to punish me. She's not a saint. She's cruel.'
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