"Well," asked the young man, "who the deuce are you?"
By way of an answer the other burst into a laugh that showed his
brilliant teeth; then he threw off his battered soft hat and gayly
colored handkerchief, after which he sank into the chair which
Pendleton had lately vacated.
"Pen," said he, in an altered voice, "if you appreciate my friendship
at all, give me one of the blackest cigars in the case over there."
Pendleton stared for a moment; then a grin crept over his face and he
said:
"Oh, it's you, is it?" He went to the cabinet and took out a box.
"Here's a brand that looks like black Havana," he said. "And now, what
the dickens are you doing in that rig?"
"I've been taking a long ride in the country--on a motor cycle,"
answered Ashton-Kirk, crossing his shabbily clothed legs and striking
a match. "Any time you feel disinclined to face your meals, Pen, I
recommend you heartily to do the same. It is a greater bracer. At this
moment I really believe I could do complete justice to even the very
best culinary thoughts of our friend, Dr. Mercer."
Pendleton sat down and regarded his friend with questioning eyes.
"It wasn't to acquire an appetite that you made up this way. You've
been working.
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