The extra fifteen minutes had not been spent in whipping the harsh-voiced tenant on the third floor; indeed, Gary had forgotten all about him the moment he hung up the receiver. One simply cannot annihilate all the men one abuses in the course of a day’s strained living in Los Angeles or any other over-full city. Gary had been delayed first by the tenacity of the grease paint on his person, and after that by the heavy traffic on the street cars. Two cars had gone whanging past him packed solidly with peevish human beings and with men and boys clinging to every protuberance on the outside. When the third car stopped to let a clinging passenger drop off--shaking down his cuffs and flexing his cramped fingers--Gary had darted in like a hornet, seized toe-hold and finger-hold and hung on. And so, fifteen minutes late, he arrived at Patricia’s door and was let into Paradise and delectable odors and the presence of Patricia, who looked as though Christmas had come unexpectedly and she was waiting until the candles were lighted on the tree so she could present Gary with a million dollars. Her honest sweetness and her adorable little way of mothering Gary--though she was fours years younger--tingled with an air of holding back with difficulty the news of some amazing good fortune. Patricia shared the bungalow with a trained nurse who was usually absent on a “case”, so that Patricia was practically independent and alone. Most girls of twenty couldn’t have done it and kept their mental balance; but Patricia was herself under any and all conditions, and it did not seem strange for her to be living alone the greater part of the time. Freedom, to her, spelled neither license nor loneliness; she lived as though her mother were always in the next room. Patricia felt sometimes that her mother was closer, very close beside her. It made her happier to feel so, but never had it made her feel ashamed. She had evolved the dinner in this manner: while her boss was keeping her waiting until he had refreshed his memory of a certain special price on alfalfa molasses and oil cakes, etc., etc., in carload and half-carload lots, Patricia had jotted down in good shorthand, “chicken, about two pounds with yellow legs and a limber wishbone or nothing doing; cost a dollar, I expect--is Gary worth it? I’ll say he is. God love ums. Strawberries, two boxes--Hood Rivers, if possible--try the City Market. Celery--if there’s any that looks decent; if not, then artichokes or asparagus--Gary likes asparagus best--says he eats artichokes because it’s fun--Dear Sir:--In response to your favor of the 17th inst.,--” and so on. Some girls would have quoted asparagus in carload lots, transcribing from such notes, and would have put alfalfa molasses on the dinner menu; but not Patricia.