[CHAPTER XXIII]
Home
Pete Stearns, dressed once more like a citizen of the United States, descended again to the lower floor by the back stairs and began a search of the pantry. He foraged some crackers, a jar of cheese, and some potted tongue, and with these he returned to the second floor, where he found the social secretary awaiting him in the sun parlor. Mary Wayne was a normal person again. The soot of the coal chute had disappeared, as well as the fragile vestments; she had not taken her entire wardrobe aboard the yacht.
Pete was still grumbling over her treatment of him. It was ungenerous, unfair, he contended; she was coldly ignoring all his prowess of the afternoon and evening and dwelling only upon a single incident in which he felt entirely justified in exercising reasonable precaution.
"I'd have gone down the coal chute myself if you'd only waited a minute," he said. "You didn't give me a fair chance."
"I notice you didn't follow me," she answered contemptuously. "You waited for me to find my way out of the cellar and open the kitchen door."
"Well, what was the use——"
"Please open that can of tongue. Do you want me to die of hunger?"
He shrugged gloomily and attacked the can. Mary picked up the telephone instrument and called for a number. Presently she was talking.