“Nothing must ruin that,” was Howard Everett’s quick answer. “You will be great some day, both great and famous. There is a wide difference in those words, although many do not seem to know it. A woman with a face and voice like yours should have the world at her feet, and you can, signorita; you have only to think so.”
He spoke softly and tenderly, yet with a masterful tone, and Marion felt the thrill of his words through every fibre of her being.
As she glanced up suddenly, their eyes met for a moment; then Marion, with an unaccountable blush, held out her white hand and bade him “good-evening.”
CHAPTER IX.
THE HIDEOUS CHINAMAN APPEARS AGAIN.
When Marion reached her dressing-room after leaving Howard Everett she found a note awaiting her.
She was about to throw it aside, thinking that it was one of the nightly “mash notes” which she had been receiving all the week, when a sharper glance revealed that the handwriting was familiar.
She tore it open hastily and a smile of pleasure lighted her features as she read. It was from Alma Allyn, one of her dearest friends. Miss Allyn told her briefly that she was in the theatre and would be at the stage door to go home with her right after the performance.
Miss Allyn was a newspaper reporter and a very clever woman. She had known both the Marlowe girls ever since they came to the city, and it was in her flat that Dollie Marlowe was married.
Since Dollie’s marriage she had been living alone, but she visited the bride as often as possible.