"Mr. Mallory!" she cried, in just as much surprise; and then gazed at him trembling.
"Miss Adams," said Mark, quietly, after a moment's thought. "I want to have a talk with you, if you please. May I?"
"Yes," she cried. "Yes, but not here. I want to see you alone."
She turned, and Mark followed her, almost having to run to keep up with the girl's excited pace. They descended the hill at the end of the path, and then on they went almost to the Hudson's shore. It was a dark, deserted spot, and there the girl halted. Mark stopped too, and she turned about and gazed at him.
"Now, then," said she.
Mark said nothing at first; he was watching her features, admiring them and at the same time wondering at the emotion they showed. Her cheeks became red as fire under his gaze.
"Mr. Powers has told you all?" she demanded at last. "He has; I can see it!"
Mark started as he noticed the tone of her voice; he had never heard her speak that way before. Usually her voice was soft and melodious, a voice with a hidden, musical charm. Now it was cold and harsh, and Mark knew at once what that meant.
The girl was angry already. She saw that he was about to cast her aside, after all her passionate, humiliating confession. And she was putting a bold, brazen front upon it.
"I can see!" she cried, suddenly. "I can see it all in your face. You do not care for me!"