“You don’t recall me, of course, Mr. Power,” she said; “but I remember you quite well—even after twenty years!”
“Meg!” he cried.
She reddened somewhat. Though wearing a hat and an out-of-doors costume, she was unveiled, and there was no trace of scar or disfigurement on her face.
“Marguerite Sinclair, at any rate,” she answered.
“Sent here by the gods!” he muttered.
“Your gods are false gods, Mr. Power. I, for one, don’t recognize them as guides.”
“Marguerite Sinclair!” he went on. “So you are unmarried?”
“And you?” she retorted.
“I? I am free, at last.”
“Free?”