Monty had to be content with that and rode away to his own camp somewhat reluctantly, leaving Gary standing in the doorway of the cabin, his hands braced against the frame on either side, smoking and staring after him a bit wistfully. CHAPTER FOURTEEN PATRICIA REGISTERS FURY Patricia waited a week. One day at the office when she happened to be alone for half an hour, she jerked the telephone hook off its shelf and looked up Cohen’s studio number. Inwardly she was furious. She would be a long time forgiving Gary for forcing her to speak the first word. She could see no possible excuse for such behavior, and her voice, when she spoke into the mouthpiece, was coldly impersonal. “Will you please tell me where I can get into touch with Mr. Mills’ company?” Patricia might have been calling up the freight office to put a tracer on a lost shipment of ground barley. “Mr. Mills’ company is out on location,” replied a voice which Patricia mentally dubbed snippy. “I asked you where I could get in touch with Mr. Mills’ company. This is important.” Patricia spoke into a dead telephone. The snippy one in Cohen’s office had hung up. While Patricia was still furious, she wrote a note to Gary. And, since her chin had squared itself and her head ached and she hated her job and the laundry had lost the collar to her favorite vestee, Patricia’s note read like this: “Los Angeles, Calif. “June 17, 1921. “Gary Herbert Marshall, “Cohen’s Studio, “Hollywood, Calif. “Dear Sir: “Kindly return the papers which you carried off with you a week ago last night. “Very truly, “P. Connolly.” Patricia mailed this letter along with a dozen invoices, fourteen “please remits” and a letter to the main office in Kansas City. She felt better after she had poked it into the mail box. She could even contemplate buying a new vestee set without calling the laundry names. Patricia waited a week and then called Cohen’s studio again. She was quite prepared for another snub, and perhaps that is the reason why she got it. Mr. Mills’ company was on location; and Patricia could believe that or not, just as she chose. Patricia did not believe it. She barked a request for Mr. Gary Marshall. “We do not deliver telephone messages to actors,” the snippy one informed Patricia superciliously, and hung up before Patricia could enunciate the scathing retort she had ready.