Situated in a valley that was bounded outwardly by the sea, it formed a point of depression from which the road ascended with great steepness to West Endelstow and the Vicarage.
There was no absolute necessity for either of them to alight, but as it was the vicar's custom after a long journey to humour the horse in making this winding ascent, Elfride, moved by an imitative instinct, suddenly jumped out when Pleasant had just begun to adopt the deliberate stalk he associated with this portion of the road.
The young man seemed glad of any excuse for breaking the silence.

'Why, Miss Swancourt, what a risky thing to do!' he exclaimed, immediately following her example by jumping down on the other side.
'Oh no, not at all,' replied she coldly; the shadow phenomenon at Endelstow House still paramount within her.
Stephen walked along by himself for two or three minutes, wrapped in the rigid reserve dictated by her tone.

Then apparently thinking that it was only for girls to pout, he came serenely round to her side, and offered his arm with Castilian gallantry, to assist her in ascending the remaining three-quarters of the steep.
Here was a temptation: it was the first time in her life that Elfride had been treated as a grown-up woman in this way--offered an arm in a manner implying that she had a right to refuse it.

Till to-night she had never received masculine attentions beyond those which might be contained in such homely remarks as 'Elfride, give me your hand;' 'Elfride, take hold of my arm,' from her father.

Her callow heart made an epoch of the incident; she considered her array of feelings, for and against.