“Then you were there!” exclaimed Marion gladly. “Oh! I was sure you would come—but I ought to have taken off my veil before. I had sent you my picture so you would be sure to know me.”
“Well, you are here now, safe and sound,” said the man rather awkwardly; “but, I say, niece, isn’t it right that you should kiss your uncle?”
Marion glanced at him sharply and colored with surprise. There was something in his tone that offended her deeply. Should she refuse? The question flashed through her brain like lightning. She must win his good will in order to help Dollie. With this determination she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“Oh! not so cold a kiss, my beauty,” said the man with a leer; “a real love kiss for your uncle—like this!” he cried, bending over her.
“Don’t!” cried Marion sharply, springing back as she spoke. “Don’t look at me that way; it is not nice at all, and it makes me feel that you are not really my uncle!”
She stood staring at him with dilated eyes, and a thrill of horror coursed through her veins that she could not account for.
There was a rustle of heavy draperies and a handsomely dressed woman entered.
“Come with me, my dear,” she said shortly. “Your uncle is not exactly himself to-night. You see, he has just dined and has drank a little too heavily.”
Marion drew a long breath as she went immediately toward the woman. She was glad that his action could be accounted for reasonably, but the horror was still there—she could not overcome it.
The man did not make the slightest attempt to detain her, but Marion caught a significant glance which passed between the two, and her heart began beating so fiercely that it almost suffocated her.