The flush on Marion’s cheek had deepened steadily and her eyes sparkled with mischief at Miss Allyn’s suggestion, but she could hardly believe that the doctor was quite so badly smitten as her friend’s remarks would indicate, and she was greatly surprised at his new ambition.
“Why, he never told me that he sang,” she said, after a minute; “although, of course, I knew he was a great admirer of music.”
“He is passionately fond of singing,” said Miss Allyn, smiling, “and unless I’m much mistaken, he is also passionately fond of a certain singer.”
She pinched Marion’s arm very gently as she spoke, but the beautiful girl had no answer ready.
“Here we are at Dollie’s,” said Miss Allyn, poking her head out of the carriage window; “now you must run in and let them know you are safe, and then you must come over and stay all night at my bachelor’s quarters.”
Her friend sprang out of the carriage and ran up the steps. In a few minutes she returned, bringing a small handbag with her.
“Oh, Marion, I’ve seen a sight!” was Miss Allyn’s greeting. “A creepy-looking ‘chink’ just passed the carriage. His face was all scars, and he was simply hideous.”
“Are you sure it was a Chinaman?” asked Marion, quickly; “a small, swarthy fellow, with long, yellow, clawlike fingers?”
“He was small and swarthy all right,” was the answer, “but his hands were out of sight. I couldn’t see his fingers.”