"Oh, but you said you were going to keep the ring, so that will not pay for this, I want to be sure that you lose nothing."
He suddenly became aware that the train was whistling and that the conductor was motioning him to go.
"But you have not told me your name," he cried in dismay.
"You have named me," she answered, smiling. "I am Mary Remington."
"But that is not your real name."
"You may call me Mary if you like," she said. "Now go, please, quick! I'm afraid you'll get hurt."
"You will remember that I am your friend?"
"Yes, thank you. Hurry, please!"
The train paused long enough for him to step in front of her window and wave his hat in salute. Then she passed on into the night, and only two twinkling lights, like diminishing red berries, marked the progress of the train until it disappeared in the cut. Nothing was left but the hollow echoes of its going, which the hills gave back.
