She gave a violent start, the blood suffused her cheeks, and then fled, leaving her deadly pale, as she gazed at him with dilating eyes.
“I beg your pardon,” she said coldly, “you addressed me?”
“Yes,” he said in a low voice which trembled a little from the excess of his emotion, “but we are alone now, Marion. For pity’s sake let there be an end to this.”
“Ah, I remember,” she said in her low, musical tones, “you are the strange gentleman who addressed me before. You are repeating your mistake, sir.”
“Indeed!” he said reproachfully, as he fixed her eyes with his. “Do you think I could ever be mistaken?”
She bowed slightly and drew a little back, glancing hurriedly at the driver, and then looking ahead as if eager for the carriage to proceed.
“How can you be so cruel?” he whispered. “Marion, you are maddening me!”
He saw her wince, but with wonderful self-command she sat rigid as she said slowly—
“I beg, sir, that there may be an end of this. Can you not see that you are making a mistake, and are insulting an unprotected woman?”
She looked him fully in the eyes now with a calm air of wonderment, and for the moment he was in doubt.