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"Pooh," said Patricia, turning from her own reflection with a gay laugh. "You don't need to try. I do worship beauty, and I always shall. I like to laugh and sing and be happy. I like blue skies because God made them that way. And I don't think a pink rose is wickeder for being pink than if it were grubby gray. I think being happy is the serious business of life—when you take other people in with you—and I reckon God thinks so too.", "I didn't. I found it.", When that awful word, the worst word that a woman can use to a man, left my lips, a flame shot up into his eyes that I thought would burn me up, but in a half second it was extinguished by the strangest thing in the world—for the situation—a perfect flood of mirth. He sat down in his chair and shook all over, with his head in his hands, until I saw tears creep through his fingers. I had calmed down now so suddenly that I was about to begin to cry in good earnest when he wiped his eyes and said with a low laugh in his throat—.