“Most people have never really met you, Stumpy,” said Isabel unexpectedly.  “Dinah is one of the privileged few, and I am glad she appreciates it.”

“Good heavens!” said Scott, flushing a deep red.  “Spare me, Isabel!”

Dinah broke into her gay, infectious laugh.  “Please—­please don’t be upset about it!  I’m glad I’m one of the few.  I’ve felt you were a prince in disguise all along.”

“Very much in disguise!” protested Scott.  “Remove that, and there would be nothing left.”

“Except a man,” said Isabel, “You can’t get away, Stumpy.  You’re caught.”

A fleeting smile crossed her face like a gleam of light and was gone.  She turned her look upon Dinah, and became silent again.

Scott, much disconcerted, hunted in every pocket for his cigarette-case.  “You don’t mind my smoking, I hope?” he murmured.

“I like it,” said Dinah.  “Let me help you light up!”

She made a screen with her hands, and guarded the flame from the draught.

He thanked her courteously, recovering his composure with a smile that was not without self-ridicule, and in a moment they were talking again upon impersonal matters.  But the episode, slight though it was, dwelt in Dinah’s mind thereafter with an odd persistence.  She felt as if Isabel had given her a flashlight glimpse of something which otherwise she would scarcely have realized.  In that single fleeting moment of revelation she had seen that which no vision of knight in shining armour could have surpassed.

They reached the chalet at the top of the pass, and descended for tea.  The windows looked right down the snow-clad valley up which they had come.  The sun had begun to sink, and the greater part of it lay in shadow.

Far away, rising out of the shadows, all golden amid floating mists, was a mighty mountain crest, higher than all around.  The sun-rays lighted up its wondrous peaks.  The glory of it was unearthly, almost more than the eye could bear.

Dinah stood on the little wooden verandah of the chalet and gazed and gazed till the splendour nearly blinded her.

“Still watching the Delectable Mountains?” said Scott’s voice at her shoulder.

She made a little gesture in response.  She could not take her eyes off the wonder.

He came and stood beside her in mute sympathy while he finished his cigarette.  There was a certain depression in his attitude of which presently she became aware.  She summoned her resolution and turned herself from the great vision that so drew her.

He was leaning against a post of the verandah, and she read again in his attitude the weariness that she had marked earlier in the afternoon.

“Are you—­troubled about your sister?” she asked him diffidently.

He threw away the end of his cigarette and straightened himself.  “Yes, I am troubled,” he said, in a low voice.  “I am afraid it was a mistake to bring her here.”