MY QUEEN
A WEEKLY JOURNAL FOR YOUNG WOMEN
No. 5. PRICE, FIVE CENTS.
MARION MARLOWE ENTRAPPED
OR
THE VICTIM OF PROFESSIONAL JEALOUSY
BY GRACE SHIRLEY
PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY STREET & SMITH, 238 William Street, New York City.
Copyright, 1900, by Street & Smith. All rights reserved. Entered at New York Post-Office as Second-Class Matter.
Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 238 William St., N. Y.
Entered According to Act of Congress in the year 1900, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.
No. 5. NEW YORK, October 27, 1900. Price Five Cents.
Marion Marlowe Entrapped;
OR,
THE VICTIM OF PROFESSIONAL JEALOUSY.
By GRACE SHIRLEY.
CHAPTER I.
“ILA DE PARLOA.”
Howard Everett, musical critic for theNew York Star, was just entering the officeof his friend, Manager Graham, when hestopped and almost stared at the young ladywho was emerging. She was by far the mostbeautiful girl that Everett had ever seen, andthat was saying much, for the critic hadtraveled extensively. She was not over seventeen,a trifle above medium height, with abrilliant complexion, luxuriant chestnut hairand large gray eyes, that flashed like diamondsas she glanced at him carelessly.
Everett gave a long, low whistle to relievehis feelings, then threw open the door andrushed into the office.
“Who the mischief is she?” he blurted out,instantly.
Clayton Graham, manager of the TempleOpera Company, turned around from hisdesk and smiled good-naturedly.
“So she’s bewitched you, too, has she?” heasked, jovially. “Well, she’s the first womanI ever saw that could rattle the cold-blooded,cynical Howard Everett!”
“But, good Heavens, man, she’s a wonder!I never saw such a face. It is a combinationof strength, poetry, beauty; and, most wonderfulof all, goodness! Why, that girl isnot only worldly, but she is heavenly, too!Quick, hurry, old man, and tell me what youknow about her.”
“That won’t take me long,” said Graham,as he passed his friend a cigar. “Sit down,Everett, and have a smoke. Perhaps it willcalm your nerves a little.”
“Pshaw! I’m not as much rattled as Ilook,” said the critic, laughing, “but for oncein my life I am devoured by curiosity, as the[2]novelists say—I want to know where youdiscovered that American Beauty.”
“Well, you want to know too much,” wasGraham’s answer; “but, seeing it is you, Isuppose I’ll have to forgive you. But here’sher story, as much as I know of it—and that,as I said, is mighty little. She came herefrom the country about six