Marion Marlowe was now trembling with indignation already, but at the woman’s words she became suddenly calm.
“Certainly I am here, Carlotta!” she said, quietly, “where else should I be but keeping my engagements?”
“She means that she is engaged to me,” spoke up Jack Green, sneeringly. “I was just sealing our betrothal with a kiss or two,” he added.
“How dare you!” cried Marion, turning on him furiously.
Carlotta sneered as she came a little nearer.
“I thought your goodness was all put on,” she said, coldly. “So you prefer a ‘property man’ to a gentleman, do you?”
The beautiful young girl turned on her heel with a disdainful glance. She had had quite enough of this sort of thing for one evening.
As she walked deliberately to her dressing-room, both Carlotta and Green stared after her, and in spite of their anger they could not conceal their admiration.
“By gad! But she’s a corker!” was the property man’s exclamation.
“She thinks because the public likes her that she owns the show,” muttered Carlotta, “but I’ll fix her yet, the little country hussy!”