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. For now, though, we moved single file, and I was irritated that
Coral had somehow gotten ahead of me.
"If you'll scrunch over, I'll go past," I told her.
"Why?" she asked. .
"So I can be ahead of you in case you slip."
"That's all right," she replied. "I won't."
I decided it wasn't worth arguing and let her lead:
The landings where the stairway switched back were haphazard affairs,
hacked wherever the contours of the , rock permitted such a turning.
Consequently, some descending stretches were longer than others and our
route wandered all over the face of the mountain. The winds were much
stronger now than they were above, and we found ourselves staying as close
to the mountain's side as its contours permitted. Had there been no wind, we
probably would have done the same. The absence of any sort of guard railing
made us shy back from the edge. There were places where the mountain's wall
overhung us for a cavelike effect; other places, we followed a bellying of
the rock and felt very exposed. My cloak blew up across my face several
times and I cursed, recalling that natives seldom visit historical spots in
their own neighborhoods. I began to appreciate their wisdom. Coral was
hurrying on ahead, and I increased my pace to catch up with her. Beyond her,
I could see that there was a landing which signaled the first turning of the
way
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