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"She has fled." "You have good custom today, François," he said with a gesture toward the chattering groups at the other tables. Patricia sighed and stirred restlessly. "Isn't that like life?" she commented, her face clearing as the thought took hold on her. "We're all hankering after something that we haven't got—or we think we are. Maybe—maybe we'd not like the other thing any better if we did get it, though one's own things always seem awfully commonplace, don't they?".
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"Oh, I don't know," replied Patricia easily. "She's kind, anyway. I think if she were thin, people wouldn't find her half bad. Fat people never seem quite as human as the rest of us." "How could she?" wondered Patricia, feeling awed by this devotion to art. The chorus swelled, with Griffin's thrilling treble soaring high and clear: "Yes; I can see that. Uncle Jen, and it is for that reason I want to marry Isabella, and take her away before her mind is degraded further by that old fury.".
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