Mary's mouth was wreathed in a smile.
"You know," she answered.
Max retreated so suddenly that he nearly fell down the stone steps.
"You've—you've——" he gasped.
"Yes," said Mary.
"It's a lie! You're tryin' to scare me!" His jaw worked spasmodically. "It's a damned lie!" he repeated.
"You don't believe me?" the girl inquired.
If she had looked for heroics, if she had feared melodrama, she was as yet disappointed. The knees of Max shook under him; he was in abject terror.
"It's a lie," he muttered over and over. "It's a damn' lie!"
"Think what you please," said Mary. She was still smiling, still serene. "You believed I'd forgot, didn't you? Well, I didn't forget, Max Grossman, an' now you'll remember. If you don't yet think I'm givin' you a straight story, all you have to do is just one thing: wait."