All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 121: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GOOD REFERENCES. ‘“ Never,” said Mary. “ I'll starve first.”’ “I don’t think that’s a very clever re- venge. I’m still pusillanimous enough to eat. Ill scout around.” co No! ” ‘But why not?” ‘“‘ Because I feel ridiculous enough as it is,’ she declared, frowning at her costume. ‘But I might be able to locate some of our society friends. We’re supposed to have friends here, aren’t we?” “J wouldn’t dream of appealing to them.” Pete shook his head helplessly. ‘Do you expect to sit here for the rest of your life?” “JT don’t care. I’m not going to humili- ate myself any further. We might meet another man and—”’ ‘ But I'll soak him for you. “We might meet several.” “Tt doesn’t take you long to collect a crowd, does it?” he said. ‘ You can invent whole armies right out of your head. Be cheerful and take it the other way around; Wwe may not meet anybody at all.” But Mary wiggled her toes in the sun and shook her. head. “You stay here, then, and I’ll reconnoi- ter.” “No! I don’t intend to be left alone.” “Let’s hoist a signal of distress, then. That’s always been done and it’s considered perfectly good form.” cc No.” “ All right. Starve!”’ effort to hide exasperation. ‘“‘T don’t believe you’d care if I did.” His only answer to that was a gesture of despair. Who was it who claimed to under- stand woman? Pete would have been glad to submit this one for analysis and report. He sat with his knees drawn up under his chin, staring out at the harbor. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted to stretch his legs. He wanted to do anything except remain glued to a rock, like a shellfish. Why did she have to be so fussy on the subject of conventions? He knew that many a martyr had died cheerfully for a cause. But did ever one die for a cause like this? After half an ‘hour of silence he was about to renew the argument when he dis- Honest.” Pete made no 111 covered that she was asleep. She had curled herself up in a sunny hollow of the rocks, made a pillow out of an arm and be- come quite oblivious to Larchmont Harbor and all the world beyond and around it. Pete arose cautiously. He climbed far- ther up on the rocks, then paused to look back. She had not moved. He went still farther inshore, moving noiselessly on all fours, then straightened up and walked as briskly as a man may who is not inured to going barefoot in the rough places. “If she wakes up, let her holler,” he muttered. “I’m going to take a look around.” Half an hour later he was back again, munching an apple. He had several more that he placed on the rock beside Mary, who still slept as dreamlessly as a baby and who had not stirred during his absence. Pete regarded her with severe eyes. ‘Shall I wake her? No. Let her sleep the sleep of starvation within arm’s reach of food. Never was there any justice more poetic. If she wants to be stubborn let her find out what it is costing her. Perhaps I’d better eat all the apples. No; I won’t do that. Then she’d never know what she missed. I might leave a little row of cores for her to look at. That’s a good idea, but —oh, she’d murder me. I think she could be dangerous if she tried.”’ Mary did not look dangerous. She seemed more like a tired little child. Once she stirred, but did not awaken, although she smiled faintly. “ Dreaming of Bill,” was Pete’s comment. “Which reminds me: wonder where Bill is?” Several yachts had entered the harbor; others had left. But although he made sys- tematic survey of the entire anchorage there was no trace of the Sunshine. The sun disappeared, and there followed a per- ceptible cooling of the air. Pete reached mechanically for his watch, then remem- bered and laughed. The laugh awoke Mary. She sat up in a daze, staring at him. ‘“ We're in Larchmont, sitting on a rock and trying to be dignified in the midst of preposterous adversity,” he reminded her. ‘““ Have an apple?’”’ comiclboolk C©