and when these things can be borne no longer, cry for loneliness and boredom.
Edna Driggs, walking unceremoniously into the room occupied by Dot and Eddie, found Dot face downward on the bed crying for her loneliness and boredom.
"What's the matter? Have a fight?" asked Edna.
"No." Dot sat up and sniffled.
"Gee, you cry easy," said Edna. "What is it, a gift? Who's dead?"
"No one," Dot answered as miserably as though she were sorry to say that such was the case. "I'm glad to see you, Edna."
A sob.
"I'm glad you told me," said Edna. "I'd never have guessed it."
Dot smiled crookedly. She walked to the bureau and powdered her nose with unnecessary carefulness. Edna watched attentively as the lipstick moved across Dot's lips with deft little strokes. Edna watched more attentively but said nothing when Dot lighted a cigarette and began to puff heroically.
"I'm trying to get so that I like to smoke," Dot explained. "They say it's company when you're alone a lot."
Tears rushed readily to Dot's eyes.
"My, my," said Edna, "don't we just feel awfully sorry for ourself?"
"Well, it's no fun," Dot said hotly. "I'm all alone all day without a thing to do, I almost go crazy."
"I'm alone too," said Edna, "and nobody comes home to me at six o'clock."
Dot wasn't to be shamed out of her misery. "You got Floyd to fuss over, and you got your apartment."
"How would you like to have an apartment?"
"I'd love it, but Eddie's got queer ideas. He'd rather save five dollars a week for two years and pay cash for furniture than get it on time."
