“Oh, if she is tied to some whipper-snapper, and dares not say her soul is her own——” he began, angrily, but Marion interrupted 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 company; and as for her lunches, the salary you pay her should provide her with those necessaries.”
“What do you say to all this?” asked the lawyer, suddenly, as he turned to Dollie, who was leaning weakly against the window.
“I 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 shoulders, he turned toward Dollie.
“I will bid you good-day, Miss Dollie,” he said, smilingly; “when you have graduated 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 gentleman who had been sitting quietly at a little distance. He wore the garb of a Quaker.
“You heard it, sir?” asked Marion, quickly.