A Lover's Quarrel, or Marion Marlowe's Deceitful Friend — page 19: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

16 the noblest and best fellows that you could ever imagine!’ “Dear me, and you are not married yet!” cried Miss Fredericks, with another glance toward»the wardrobe. “Why, how in | the world did you ever resist them!” Marion was looking straight at her now, but she was growing uneasy, for she was confident that fhere was some one listening to their conversation. “They must be awfully cramped,’ she thought, as the truth flashed across her mind; then she suddenly made a fresh discovery. “Why, you are packing up, aren’t you, Miss Fredericks?” she exclaimed, almost in- voluntarily. “I just noticed your trunk this minute. Are you thinking of leaving?” Miss Fredericks glanced over her shoulder at a half-filled trunk; then her face became a trifle pinker as she answered carelessly: “It’s all I have left—all the clothes, I mean. Some way, I don’t like to trust to the wardrobe since that horrid fire! You know my gowns were all ruined, and they were hanging in the wardrobe,” “But you have new ones,” began Marion, and then bit her lips. She did not know how far to go with this curious young woman. “Only this. I had to have this,’ was the answer, as Miss Fredericks held up the pur- ple velvet. “And, dear me, what a time I *had getting it, Miss Marlowe. Why, I had to pawn nearly all of my jewels to pay for it.”” There was another slight movement of the wardrobe door and Miss Fredericks uttered an exclamation of annoyance. - “Oh, Miss Marlowe, do tell me if | am doing this right!” she said, fretfully. “I can’t seem to remember how that collar is put on, and I do so want my gown to be perfect. Would it be asking too much to ask you to show me yours, just the waist, you know, if it isn’t too much trouble.” “Tt is no trouble at all,” said Marion, ris- ing’ hastily. “T’ll get it at once and you can copy it. She opened the door as she spoke and Miss Fredericks rose also. There was a decided creak of the wardrobe door as Marion left the apartment. She hurried to her room and began unty- MY QUEEN. ing the box that held her costume; then it suddenly occurred to her to do a little think- ing. Five minutes passed before she could make up her mind what course to pursue; then, with the waist in her hand, she went back to Miss Frederick’s apartment. * Not a sound answered her light tap and | the young girl stared in amazement. She tapped again, louder than before, but still no one responded. ‘Then she tried the door, but it was locked. “Well, if that isn’t queer,” turning back to her room. “I don’t believe she wanted the waist at all. She just asked me to get it in order to get rid of me.” she whispered, CHAPTER VIII. A CLEW. “A note from the doctor, Marion,” called Mrs. Burnside, opening the door just as the young girl once more replaced the waist in- the box and tied the cover down securely. In an instant her bewilderment and cha- grin were forgotten and Marion took the envelope and opened it eagerly. A cry of delight issued from her lips as she read; then she motioned her friend to a seat upon the sofa and immediately sat down beside her. “Listen to this, Mrs. Burnside,” she said, in a low voice, “Reginald has called upon Lena and he says she was furious over Bert's behavior, until he told her about the checks, and now she is heart-broken. She says she'll forgive him anything, if only he will prove himself innocent.’ “(Good gracious, Marion Marlowe! "What do you mean?” gasped Mrs. Burnside. “What has Bert Jackson done, I'd like to know, except shown himself to be a bit silly over a woman?” “Oh, I forgot that you did not know,” an- swered Marion, as she told her the. story; then the two sat for a moment and looked blankly at each other. Mrs. Burnside found her voice at last, but her words were very guarded, “How stupid of that detective to lose sight of the woman who cashed the check,” she said, slowly. ‘Why, if we had her de- comicbooks.com - a