"Yes. Plain John will gobble you, Art and all. But your duties here——" Patricia with a tragic gesture pointed to Joan. "What of Miss Lamb, not to mention me?"
Sylvia looked serious.
"Joan is to study music next winter," she said; "haven't you told Pat, Joan?"
Joan shook her head. She had almost forgotten it herself.
"And live with her people," Sylvia went on and then, noticing Patricia's pale little face, she burst forth:
"Pat, take that offer from Chicago that you've been thinking about! It's a big thing—designing for that firm. It will make you independent, leave you time to scribble, and give you a change. Pat, do be sensible."
Patricia drew herself up. She felt that she was being disposed of simply to get her out of the way. She resented it and she was hurt.
"I do not have to decide just now," she said, coldly; "and don't fuss about me, Syl. Now that you and Joan are provided for I can jog along at my own free will, and no one will have to pay but me!"
"Pat!" Joan broke in, "you and I will stick together. And it's all right about Syl. What is this one life for, anyway, if it does not leave us free? Syl, marry your John—your art won't suffer! Pat, where I go you go next winter."
But Patricia lighted a cigarette, and while the smoke issued from her pretty little nose she sighed.