After this, feeling a little better, she ventured a glance at her companion.  He was on his feet and wiping his forehead—­a man of medium height and no great breadth of shoulder, but evidently well knit and athletic.  Becoming by some means aware of her attention, he put away his handkerchief and turned towards her.  She saw his eyes gleam under black, mobile brows that seemed to denote a considerable sense of humour.  The whole of his face held an astonishing amount of vitality, but the lips were straight and rather hard, so clean-cut as to be almost ascetic.  He looked to her like a man who would suffer to the utmost, but never lose his self-control.  And she thought she read a pride more than ordinary in the cast of his features—­a man capable of practically anything save the asking or receiving of favours.

Then he spoke, and curiously all criticism vanished.  “I had better introduce myself,” he said.  “I’m afraid I’ve been unpardonably rude.  My name is Green.”

Green!  The word darted at her like an imp of mischief.  The romantic dropped to the prosaic with a suddenness that provoked in her an almost irresistible desire to laugh.

She controlled it swiftly, but she was fully aware that she had not hidden it as she rose to her feet and offered her hand to her cavalier.

“How do you do, Mr. Green?  My name is Moore—­Miss Moore.  Will you allow me to thank you for saving my life?”

Her voice throbbed a little; tears and laughter were almost equally near the surface at that moment.  She was extremely disgusted with herself for her lack of composure.

Then again, as his hand grasped hers, she forgot to criticize.  “I say, please don’t!” he said.  “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.  It was jolly plucky of you to stand your ground with those hooligans from the mine.”

“But I didn’t stand my ground,” she pointed out.  “I went over.  It was a most undignified proceeding, wasn’t it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” he declared.  “You did it awfully well.  I wish I’d been nearer to you, but I couldn’t possibly get up in time.”

“Oh, I think you were more useful where you were,” she said “thank you all the same.  I must have gone clean to the bottom otherwise.  I thought I had.”

She caught back an involuntary shudder, and in a moment the hand that held hers closed unceremoniously and drew her further from the edge of the cliff.

“You are sure you are none the worse, now?” he said.  “Not giddy or anything?”

“No, not anything,” she said.

But she was glad of his hold none the less, and he seemed to know it, for he kept her hand firmly clasped.

“You must let me see you back,” he said.  “Where are you staying?”

“At Mrs. Rickett’s,” she told him.  “The village smithy, you know.”

“I know,” he said.  “Down at Little Shale, you mean.  You’ve come some way, haven’t you?”

“It was such a lovely night,” she said, “and Columbus wanted a walk.  I got led on, I didn’t know I was likely to meet anyone.”