Marion Marlowe's Noble Work, or, The Tragedy at the Hospital — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

ad MY QUEEN. snapper, and dares not say her soul is her own ” he began, angrily, but Marion in- terrupted in the same calm manner. ‘She is engaged to a gentleman and she means to marry him, consequently I can see no reason why she should desire your com- pany; and as for her lunches, the salary you pay her should provide her with those nec- essaries,” “What do you say to all this?” asked the lawyer, suddenly, as he turned to Dollie, who was leaning weakly against the window. “Tt think Marion is right,” said the young girl, slowly, “but I’m sure, sir, she doesn’t ‘mean to hurt your feelings. It is her love for me that makes her so decided.” “You need not apologize for me, Dollie,” said Marion, scornfully; “your employer knows that I am perfectly right, but to prove it I will ask him what he thinks his wife would say if she had interrupted this matinee plan as I did.” She was looking the lawyer steadily in the face as she spoke, and the wide gray eyes seemed to see right through him. The man’s sallow cheeks grew scarlet at her question, but, with a shrug of his shoul- ders, he turned toward Dollie. “T will bid you good-day, Miss Dollie,” he said, smilingly; “when you have gradu- ated from your sister’s tuition, you will find life much more pleasant.” He left the room without so much as a glance at Marion, who now stood half smiling beside her sister. “Thee did that well,” said a voice near Marion. She turned and saw an old gen- tleman who had been sitting quietly at a little distance. He wore the garb of a Quaker. “You heard ‘it, sir?” asked Marion, quickly, The old gentleman bowed, and smiled a little sadly. “T heard and saw it all,” he said, quietly. “I give thee my word I could not move away from that corner. I was so interested in the outcome that I deliberately remained to hear it.” “And you approve of my action?” asked Marion, as she studied his face closely. “T do, indeed, daughter,” said the Quaker, firmly. “Thy sister is an innocent—protect her always, particularly from such men, who are but wolves in sheep’s clothing.” “That is what I thought,” said Marion, as he moved away. “Come Dollie, let us go! This is no place for country maidens.” “IT don’t dare go back to the office,” said Dollie, as they went out; “he will be as angry as possible, and perhaps he will dis- Oh! Marion, what was the harm? Why couldn't I go to the matinee?” charge me. Marion drew a deep breath; she was sorely puzzied. Sometimes it seemed to her that Dollie was almost lacking in understanding. “Dollie! Dollie!” she said, earnestly, “how can you be so foolish? As if you cared so much about a matinee that you would hurt Ralph’s feelings by going with your em- ployer! Is it not better to deny yourself a little pleasure than to take such risks with your future happiness?” “Ralph isn’t so-small as to care, I am sure,’ said Dollie, panting; ‘and oh, Mar- ion, I am so sorry you talked as you did! I think you were awfully rude to poor Mr. Atherton!” © . Marion bit her lips, and her eyes filled with tears. She was realizing keenly her responsibility as a sister. She should never, never have left Dollie unprotected. “Miss Allyn warned you,” she said, al- most to herself. “She is a wise woman, Dol- lie. If you cannot trust me, why not trust Miss Allyn? with her if T had not supposed you would I would never have left you listen to her.” “Miss Allyn is too suspicious; she is like: Gomicboo <S7Gcom ntl