He steadied himself.
"No, pardon me, I do not know it, for I do not know you....

I never saw you before." She leaned her hand carelessly on the bulwarks.
He was shocked, but he drew himself together.

Their eyes were intent on each other.

"You do know me! Need I tell you that I am Boyd Madras ?" "Boyd Madras," she said, musing coldly.

"A peculiar name." "Mercy Madras was your name until you called yourself Mrs.Falchion," he urged indignantly, yet anxiously too.
"It suits you to be mysterious, Mr .-- ah yes, Mr.Boyd Madras; but, really, you might be less exacting in your demands upon one's imagination." Her look was again on him casually.
He spoke breathlessly.