"You're making a mistake, Captain Muir," she said sharply, "I am only Marrion Paul."
She would have liked to add "your friend"; but she dared not. At the moment she knew she was far more than that.
"Marmie!" he echoed stupidly. "Marmie!"
At first he was too surprised for more; then he drew himself up and stared at her angrily.
"What the deuce are you doing here?" he said at last, adding hastily, as possibilities struck him, "Did she send you? Is she ill?"
In her long drive the girl had gone over and over the coming interview, settling what she would say, but the sudden solicitude of his tone swept all her preparations away. Did he then really care? If so, nothing but the naked truth would be any use.
"No," she replied calmly, only her tightly interlaced fingers showing the tension of her mind and body. "She is quite well. I gave her a double dose of her sleeping drops to prevent her coming. I came instead because I wanted to speak to you."
The flickering firelight showed sheer anger on the young man's face--sheer brutal anger.
"Because you wanted to take her place, eh?"
She gave a little sort of sob. What would she not have given to take it? The very intensity of her desire made her pass the insult by.