Curiously, Cohen’s telephone number kept running through her mind when her mind had every reason to be fully occupied with her work. She even wrote “Hollywood 741” when she meant to write “Hollister, Calif.” on a letter she was transcribing. The curious feature of this freak of her memory is that Patricia could not remember firm telephones that she used nearly every day, but was obliged to keep a private list at her elbow for reference. Patricia did not call Hollywood 741. She did, however, write a second stern request for her papers which Gary had taken away. On the heels of that, Patricia’s boss--a kindly man in gold-bowed spectacles and close-cropped whiskers--gave Patricia a terrific shock when she had taken the last letter of the morning’s correspondence and was slipping the rubber band over her notebook. “Oh, by the way, Miss Connolly, day after to-morrow I leave for Kansas City. I’m to have charge of the purchasing department there, and I should like to have you with me if you care to make the change. The salary will be twenty-five a month more--to start; if the work justifies it, I think you could safely look forward to another advance. And of course your traveling expenses will be met by the firm.” Patricia twisted her pencil in the rubber band. “My laundry won’t be back till Friday,” she informed him primly. “But I suppose I can go out there and pay for it and have it sent on by mail. What train are you taking, Mr. Wilson?” In this manner did the dauntless Patricia meet the shock of opportunity’s door slamming open unexpectedly in her face. Patricia did not know that she would like Kansas City. She had a vague impression of heat and cyclones whenever she thought of the place. But it seemed to her a Heaven-sent chance to show Gary Marshall just how immaterial he was in her life. She debated the wisdom of sending back Gary’s ring. But the debate did not seem to get much of anywhere. She left for Kansas City with the ring still on her finger and the hope in her heart that Gary would be worried when he found she was gone, and would try to find her, and would fail. And Providence, she told herself confidently, had surely been looking after her all along and had sent James Blaine Hawkins to take that darned Johnnywater white elephant off her hands just nicely in time for the boss to offer her this change. And she didn’t care how much she hated Kansas City. She couldn’t hate it half as much as she hated Los Angeles. It merely illustrates Patricia’s firmness with herself that she did not add her reason for hating Los Angeles. In May she had loved it better than any other place on earth. CHAPTER FIFTEEN “WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH THIS PLACE?”