A Lover's Quarrel, or Marion Marlowe's Deceitful Friend — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

*. a _again, Marion,” she sobbed. ness to me last evening! MY QUEEN. , 3 “Yes, I do want you,” she whispered, merrily, “and oh, Miss Ellis, I do hope you will like it! querade ball, and it has just this minute come from the modiste!” Miss Ellis forgot her troybles for a mo- ment as the door closed behind her and her You see, I am invited to a mas- eyes fell upon an array of feminine articles, -among which was a magnificent costume of rich purple velvet. “Vou see, it is this way,’ went on Marion, still mysteriously; “my old patroness, Mrs. Parker-Stetson has invited me to this ball and, of course, | am anxious to look as nice as any one, but—dear me, Miss Ellis, what is the matter? You are as pale as a ghost! Has anything happened ?” Marion stopped short in her explanation to stare at her friend and the next moment poor Miss Ellis was sobbing on her shoulder. “T’'ll never never have faith in any one “Oh, to think of Bert writing to a perfect stranger! He must have been infatuated with her at the very first glance, and that explains his cold- Oh, I will die of misery and madness, Marion!” Marion bit her lips and her brow clouded with anxiety. She was almost too perplexed to know what to do for a minute. “Tl just break with him at once, that is what I will do!” went on Miss Ellis, reck- lessly. “I will show him that I am not to be played with that way! The idea of his daring to write letters to that horrid Miss Freder- icks!” Her anger had about spent itself, but Mar- ion was beginning to understand and, "as Miss Ellis sank upon the sofa, the young girl sat down beside her. “Now tell me exactly what has happened, dearie,” she began, a littl® sternly. “I can’t have you abusing my friend, Bert Jackson, and I’m sure you don’t mean to, either, only you are very angry. Bert is the loveliest fel- low, next to one, that I ever knew and you can’t make me believe that he has written to Miss Fredericks.” “But I saw it,” gasped Miss Ellis, who was sobbing bitterly, ‘There was a fire in her room and she came running into ours. When I went in to look at the wreck, I saw a part of the letter. It was lying on the floor all scorched and blackened, and it is Bert’s handwriting and has his own _ signature, Marion!” | “You must be mistaken,” began Marion, and, just then, Miss Fredericks herself tap- ped on the door. She had recovered from her nervousness and was actually smiling. CHAPTER II; AN OVERHEARD CONVERSATION. “T suppose Miss Ellis has told you!” she began, immediately. “I’m burned out, Miss Marlowe! Haven’t a thing left but my jewels! I felt awfully at first, but I guess it doesn’t much matter. I'll just be obliged to replenish my entire wardrobe, and there are two or three gowns that I am dying to have, sO now is my Opportunity to get them!” She tossed her head airily as she spoke, and ker voice was so jolly that both of the young girls stared at her in surprise for a moment. There was a bitter retort upon the lips of Miss Ellis, but Marion managed to give her a warning look and then turned to Miss Fredericks with her usual pleasant manner. “I am very sorry if you have lost much, Miss Fredericks; but isn’t it strange that I did not even smell smoke? The fire discipline in this hotel must be very nearly perfect.” “Oh, it was ogly the curtains and draperies that caught,” explained the young lady. “My gowns are ruined by smoke mostly, although some of them are scorched, but, dear me! what a beautiful robe! Is it yours, Miss Mar- cCoMmicbooOoks.con