“Thank you for guessing me out like an easy riddle. Now see if I can make as shrewd a guess. You are Marion!”
“How could you know?” said Marion, wonderingly.
“That is not the only thing I know,” said Mr. Eaton. “I know that when you turned and saw me you thought I had come to kidnap Ethel Bellamy?”
“O,” said Marion, coloring violently, “how could you think that?”
“You don’t deny it, though,” said Mr. Eaton, looking very much as if he wanted to laugh heartily.
“But how did you know?” persisted Marion, pressing the backs of her hands to her red cheeks, which would not grow cool.
“I have a Yankee trick of putting two and two together, and my sister is a graphic letter-writer. I am so sorry I was detained and could not get here before she went away.”
“THEN YOU ARE MR. EATON?”
“She is coming back the day after to-morrow,” Marion told him, “and I know she expected you, but she was obliged to go to New York on business.”