“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. Marion hurried on her street dress so as not to keep her waiting, and very soon after eleven o’clock the girls took a cab and were driven up town together. “I have a lot of news for you, Marion,” was Miss Allyn’s greeting, “and now that we have a few minutes together we must make up for lost time and tell each other everything.” “I haven’t much to tell,” was Marion’s quick answer; “only Carlotta hates me and is trying to make trouble for me, and I can’t help feeling that she is going to be successful.” “She’s a bad woman, from all accounts,” said Miss Allyn, shortly; “for, besides being divorced from her husband, she is Clayton Graham’s mistress—and not a very faithful one, either, according to rumor.” “How perfectly awful,” said Marion, gasping, “and to think that I went home with her one night in the hope of making a friend of her.” Miss Allyn looked at her with an inquiring glance, and Marion made haste to tell her all about it. “You were lucky to get out so easily,” she said, when the story was finished. “I wouldn’t trust that woman the length of my nose. Why I believe she’d knife a person if she got very angry.” “Well, now tell me your news,” said Marion, quickly. “I want to get that unpleasant taste out of my mind as soon as possible.” “My news will make your heart go pit-a-pat, Marion,” said Miss Allyn, laughing, “for I saw your devoted admirer, Dr. Reginald Brookes, to-day, and he fairly loaded me down with tender messages for you.”