Mallory guessed that it was, and turned back, hopeless and helpless.
CHAPTER XIII
HOSTILITIES BEGIN
During Mallory's absence, Marjorie had met with a little adventure of her own. Ira Lathrop finished his re-encounter with Anne Gattle shortly after Mallory set out stalking clergymen. In the mingled confusion of finding his one romantic flame still glowing on a vestal altar, and of shocking her with an escape of profanity, he backed away from her presence, and sank into his own berth.
He realized that he was not alone. Somebody was alongside. He turned to find the great tear-sprent eyes of Marjorie staring at him. He rose with a recrudescence of his woman-hating wrath, and dashing up the aisle, found the porter just returning from the baggage car. He seized the black factotum and growled:
"Say, porter, there's a woman in my berth."
The porter chuckled, incredulous:
"Woman in yo' berth!"
"Yes—get her out."
"Yassah," the porter nodded, and advanced on Marjorie with a gentle, "'Scuse me, missus—ye' berth is numba one."
"I don't care," snapped Marjorie, "I won't take it."