“You’d like it if you tried it,” said Green, with a wicked leer. “Your lips were made to kiss; they are just like cherries—it’s mighty mean of you, I think, to be so stingy with them.” “I shall kiss the man that I love,” said Marion, softly, as she attempted to quietly pass the fellow and go to her dressing-room. “Well, I’m a chump if I let you go that way,” said the big brute, suddenly. “You’re bound to kiss somebody if you stay in this business, and, by the powers, I’m going to be the first one!” His face had reddened with passion as he spoke, and as Marion glanced at him quickly she found his eyes almost devouring her. “Let me pass! It is late!” she commanded, sternly. “Not until I have tasted of those red lips, Ila,” said the fellow. The next second he had caught her in his arms and was pressing her roughly to his bosom. CHAPTER VII. MARION MAKES ANOTHER ENEMY For a second Marion Marlowe was almost paralyzed with fright, but as she felt the fellow’s mustache touching her cheek she raised her right hand and gave him a blow with all the force of her strong young muscles. “Take that for your impudence, you cur!” she whispered, tensely. Jack Green released her and fell back a step, and just at that moment Carlotta came out of her dressing-room. “Hello!” she said, abruptly, as she caught sight of Marion. “You here again to-night, you little simpleton!” 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!” “Well, Graham is dead gone on her all right,” said the man quickly, eying the woman sharply as he spoke to see how she took it. “Clayte Graham is a knave and a fool,” she hissed fiercely. “I’ll teach him to play fast and loose with a woman like Carlotta.” “You ought to have a pretty taut string on him by this time,” said the fellow, shrewdly, “and you ain’t the woman to be cut out by a snip of a girl like that.”