"Tell us everything about it! What did you do there all this time?
What did Phil say?
Who brought you home?
Do you like that crowd?
How can you?
They bore me to death! Oh, Patty, you're going to cry!" "I am," declared Patty, and the tears gathered thickly in her eyes.
"I'm all in, and I'm down and out, and I'm mad as hops, and I'm tired, and I _am_ going to cry.

Now, if you've any sense of common humanity, you'll know enough to go away and let me alone!" "Can I help ?" asked Mona, looking commiseratingly at Patty.
"No," and Patty smiled through the fast-flooding tears.

"I never need help to cry!" "Come on, then," and Mona took Elise by the arm and led her away, as they heard Patty's door locked behind them.
Now, most girls would have thrown themselves down on the pillows to have their cry out, but Patty was too methodical for that.

"I can't cry comfortably in this rig," she said to herself, beginning to take off the chiffon gown.
And it was with tears still unshed that she finally sat at her dressing-table plaiting her hair for the night.
"And after all," she remarked to her reflection in the mirror, "I only want to cry 'cause I'm tired and worn out and--yes, and mad! I'm mad at Philip, and I'm going to stay mad! He has no right to talk to me like a Dutch uncle! My own father never spoke to me like that! The idea! I just simply, plain won't stand it, and that's all there is about that!" And so, after Patty was snugly in bed, cuddled beneath the comforting down coverlet, she let herself go, and cried to her heart's content; great, soul-satisfying sobs that quieted her throbbing pulses and exhausted her strained nerves, until she fell asleep from sheer weariness.
And next morning she awoke, smiling.

Everything looked bright and cheery.