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Show She Wasn't His Wife. The man got into a street car comfortably comfort-ably filled and crowded into a seat next to a sharp faced woman in the corner. He squeezed her up against the end of the car, took out a newspaper, and shoving shov-ing it half across her face began to read. She stood it for about five minutes. min-utes. "Excuse me," she said then, "are you a married man?" He dropped his paper and looked at her. "Yes," he replied curtly. "I thought so," she went on. "Ain't your wife a little woman that won't say her soul's her own and lets you impose im-pose on her all you want to? I suppose she carries in the coal, builds the fires, gets your slippers, does the marketing, mends your clothes, tends to the chil dren, submits like a lamb when yon find fault and is generally an excellent wife, ain't she?" "Madam" he began. '.'Don't say a word," she interrupted. "I'm not your wife, am I?" "No, and I'm" "That's all right. And as I'm not I don't propose to have you sitting down on me and crowding me up in this corner cor-ner till I can't breathe without wheeling wheel-ing like a steam engine. Why don't you get out and walk?" and the passengers passen-gers snickered so that he did. Detroit Free Press. |