Joan burst out laughing. Patricia mimicked the ribald manner of the boy deliciously.
Patricia nodded her thanks and went on:
"Well, I hung around his corridor for ten minutes, Joan; and at four-thirty exactly his door opened and I had timed myself so perfectly that he tumbled over me and nearly knocked me down.
"He has better manners than you might expect from such a deadly prompt person. He steadied me and looked positively concerned when he realized what a pretty, helpless little thing I am!" Patricia gave a wicked wink and lighted her fifth cigarette.
"I told him I was looking for —— and I made up a preposterous name; and he puckered his lofty brow and said he couldn't recall any such name in the building, and then I told him I had about concluded that I had the wrong address, and he offered to look the name up for me, but I sighed and said that it was too late. My man always left his office at three-forty-five and that I would have to come again.
"We went down in the elevator together, the boy winking all the way down at me—and—that's all, Joan, except that you've got to go careful with Mr. Kenneth Raymond. You don't want to hurt that fairy godmother of his; she hasn't had many things of her own in life, and I do insist that while one is grabbing it's better to grab where there is a flock than pick a ewe-lamb. Besides, this Kenneth Raymond hasn't begun to understand himself—he's been too busy understanding life. Have a heart, Joan!"
Joan looked up sedately.
"Isn't it queer, Pat, but now that I know him he doesn't seem interesting in the least. He's priggish and conceited; he's a poser, too. It is too bad, Pat, for you to tire yourself out and get such a—a dry stick for your pains."
Patricia regarded Joan for a full minute and then she remarked:
"You had better go home and get to bed, child. And look here—I give you this advice free: a fire lighted by an idiot can do as much damage as any other kind of a fire."