The next morning dawned bright and cloudless. Clare walked up the steep path of the Edge with a lightened heart. What a perfect day! She was glad that she had decided to say what had to be said out in the open, under the blue sky, instead of in her stuffy little sitting room. She was sorry for Vivien, very sorry indeed, but the thing had got to be done.

She saw a yellow dot, like some yellow flower higher up by the side of the path. As she came nearer it resolved itself into the figure of Vivien, dressed in a yellow knitted frock, sitting on the short turf, her hands clasped round her knees.

“Good morning,” said Clare. “Isn’t it a perfect morning?”

“Is it?” said Vivien. “I haven’t noticed. What was it you wanted to say to me?”

Clare dropped down on the grass beside her.

“I’m quite out of breath,” she said apologetically. “It’s a steep pull up here.”

“Damn you!” cried Vivien shrilly. “Why can’t you say it, you smooth-faced devil, instead of torturing me?”

Clare looked shocked, and Vivien hastily recanted.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, Clare. I am indeed. Only—my nerves are all to pieces, and your sitting here and talking about the weather—well, it got me all rattled.”

“You’ll have a nervous breakdown if you’re not careful,” said Clare coldly.

Vivien gave a short laugh.

“Go over the edge? No—I’m not that kind. I’ll never be a loony. Now tell me—what’s all this about?”

Clare was silent for a moment, then she spoke, looking not at Vivien, but steadily out over the sea.

“I thought it only fair to warn you that I can no longer keep silence about—about what happened last year.”

“You mean—you’ll go to Gerald with the whole story?”

“Unless you’ll tell him yourself. That would be infinitely the better way.”

Vivien laughed sharply.

“You know well enough I haven’t got the pluck to do that.”

Clare did not contradict the assertion. She had had proof before of Vivien’s utterly craven temper.

“It would be infinitely better,” she repeated.

Again Vivien gave that short, ugly laugh.

“It’s your precious conscience, I suppose, that drives you to do this?” she sneered.

“I dare say it seems very strange to you,” said Clare quietly. “But it honestly is that.”

Vivien’s white, set face stared into hers.

“My God!” she said. “I really believe you mean it, too. You actually think that’s the reason.”

“It is the reason.”