“Forgive me, please, for wounding you,” she said, very softly, “but, Mary, that dreadful woman is in the constant companionship of a man who has met Marion here, as your friend, Miss Allyn. He goes by the name of George Harris Colebrooke.” With a little groan Miss Allyn rose from her chair. “The black-hearted scoundrel!” she muttered, savagely. “And he hates her, Miss Ray; because she was loyal to me George Colebrooke hates her.” Dollie burst out crying again and it took both women to comfort her. She was now thoroughly alarmed about the condition of her sister. She had entirely forgotten the doctor’s allusion to “May Osgood,” but Miss Allyn was pondering it over and over in silence. It was almost midnight when the three young men returned, but they came triumphant, bringing Marion with them. “Put her right to bed,” said Dr. Brookes, authoritatively. “The poor girl is worn out from this evening’s experience. If the shock is not too great she will be all right to-morrow.” “I am all right now,” cried Marion, decidedly, as she insisted upon walking to a chair unsupported. “Oh, what a dreadful experience it has been. To think that I was only trying to do the woman a kindness and she deliberately connived to get me in to her rooms in order that I might be insulted by—by that villain!” “We all know who you mean!” said Miss Allyn, promptly. “George Colebrooke hates you, and the woman is his friend! Oh, how could I ever have been so deceived—so foolish as to trust him.” “Thank Heaven you are done with him!” said Marion gladly, then she glanced at her rescuers with a pitiful look, but she could not yet understand Mr. Ray and the doctor being together. She was very pale and almost radiantly beautiful as she said good-night to her friends a little later. If there was any preference in her heart for either of these noble young men, there was not an expression or glance to show it. As Dr. Brookes said good-night and walked away by himself he had fully decided that Bert’s information was erroneous—if that woman was Mrs. Ray, how could she be “May Osgood?” “Marion, I believe you are a coquette,” said Miss Allyn, when the girls were alone. “I don’t see how else you could possibly be so entirely neutral.” “I act as I feel,” said Marion, simply, “I don’t know which I like best and to-night I am too tired to think—they were both as brave as lions and Bert held his own with them nobly.” After the three girls were in bed Marion told them what had happened. She had only to speak distinctly, for Miss Allyn’s bed-room was adjoining.