She walked her horse towards him and held out her hand, while a wonderful light dawned in her eyes.
"Danny!" she cried, "don't you remember me?"
And gradually the look of joy faded from her face, to be replaced by one of blank amazement. For the man was looking at her as if she had been a stranger.
Then, with a courteous bow, he removed his hat. "You are the second person, madam, who has made the same mistake this morning. My name is John Marston."
But the girl only stared at him in silence, and shook her head.
"I've been watching you ride, Danny," she said, at length, "and just think of it—I didn't know you. What a blind little fool I was, wasn't I?"
"I don't see how you could be expected to recognize me, madam," answered the man. "I hope you'll have as good a second run as the one we've just had. I'm afraid this poor old nag must go stablewards."
He looped the reins over his arm, and once more raised his hat as he turned away.
"But, Danny," cried the girl, a little wildly, "you can't go like this."
"Steady, Molly." Young Dawson was standing beside her, looking a little ruffled. "I don't know who the devil Danny is or was; but this fellow says he's John Marston. You can't go throwin' your arms round a stranger's neck in the huntin'-field. It's simply not done."