Marion Marlowe in Society, or, A Race for a Title — page 28: what you’re looking at

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emotions. But I suppose that is why there is such a fascination about you.” “Do you find us fascinating?” was the co- quettish answer. “Well, of course, a girl _ like Miss Marlowe is enough to turn one’s head, but, really, I can’t see that women have so dreadfully many charms—I find the most of them terribly treacherous and jealous!” “How can you say so?” said Bert, with great gravity. “Why, just look at Miss _ Rushlyn—she is almost a saint! It is no _ wonder that the Duke is dead in love with her.” _ “Nonsense! He isn’t at all!” said the girl, candidly. “Why, I heard that he did not _eare for the money! That he really had old- _ fashioned notions about love and marriage.” “TT wonder if that is true,” said Bert, with an incredulous look in his eyes. “If he has then all [ve got to say is, he’s got more sense _ than I gave him credit for, and, moreover, he has courage to even give such an impres- a | _ The girl was about to reply when there was a lull in the general conversation of the room—then Kittie Glenham said something that both heard distinctly. “Yes, Lord Curry was refused by Miss Marlowe,” she said, sweetly; “and the poor fellow killed himself from sheer disappoint- ment. Why, it sounds like a love story, doesn’t it, Mrs. Van Twiller?” a “Tt sounds more Jike a canard,” spoke up Roy Glenham, quickly; “as if Lord Curry would have been so foolish! Why, he was th e last man in the world to make a mésalli- ance!” _ “But Miss Marlowe is Mrs. Stetson’s pro- tégée, we must not forget that,” responded rs. Van Twiller.: _ “And a deucedly fine girl, too, don’t you eS know !” broke in her son, and, for the first time since they had met, Bert felt like shak- ing hands with him. __“Oh, you boys all love actresses,” said Mrs. Van Twiller, shaking her finger at her son; “really, a girl to attract attention has almost to go on the stage nowadays—our boys are Stage-struck,” she added, laughing. ___ The Duke had heard it all, but he. merely shrtigged his noble shoulders and went on talking to Maude Rushlyn in the most devot- ed manner. __ suddenly there was a little flutter, and Sirs. Wurtemburg entered. She was lean- ing on the arm of her flashily-dressed off- | _ “Dear me, have you heard the news?” she almost gasped, as she sank into a chair after exchanging greetings. Let me tell it, maw! You are weally too - a ¥ < ee s a % ‘ ay neal = ws -? “oe *, . _ a .T¥ * - . - ‘ .* + ores: Py “— MY QUEEN. 25 excited, don’t you know,” broke in her young hopeful. Without waiting for her consent, Jack Wurtemburg told the news, which proved to be really another paragraph in the society columns of the evening paper. “Dear Mrs. Stetson has given us another surprise, don’t you know. Why, she has actually been looking up the pedigree of this Miss Marlowe, and she’s awistocwatic, ‘pon honor! A wegular blue-blood! Why, her gweat, gweat grandfather was an English baronet who came over in the Mayflower, just for a lark, the deah fellow!” “Oh, Jack! How dreadfully you tell it,” began his mother, but her words were lost in the surprise that followed. Bert Jackson’s lips twitched, for he knew who was respon- sible for that paragraph. It had taken him and Marion’s friend, Miss Allyn, an hour to compose it. Suddenly it occurred to him to look and see how the Duke took it. He glanced at him calmly, and saw that he was as serene as ever. CHAPTER XIV. THE CHANCE TO BE A DUCHESS. “A word with you, Mr. Glenham!” It was Bert Jackson who spoke. The two had met just inside of the portals of one of the most exclusive clubs, and Glenham had been about to pass with only a nod of greeting. “What is it, Jackson?” he asked, a bit im- patiently. “Sorry, but I’m in a hurry—en- _gagement with the Duke at eleven.” “The Duke can wait,’ was the quiet an- swer. “No doubt the slander you have for him will keep, Mr. Glenham, and my mes- sage will not, so I shall be obliged to detain you.” . _ “What do you mean?” asked Glenham, wheeling around furiously. “By what right do you presume to use the word ‘slander? ” “The right of a gentleman to tell the truth,” said Bert, quietly. “You are going to the Duke with some more tales about Miss Marlowe—tales that you have conjured up out of your infamous brain, in the hope of making the Duke despise her and-turn his at- tention toward your less beautiful sister. You see, I know all about it, mv dear Mr. Glenham! If Miss Rushlyn knew as much. you'd soon be kicked out of her service.” “You impudent little puppy! How dare you?” began Glenham. He made a threatening motion with his arm, but Bert did not flinch: instead. he snapped his fingers. under the nose of his ‘companion. CORMICLOO SaCO