She Wasn't His Wife

Themangot into astreetcarcomfortably filled and c-rowded into a seat next to a sharp faced woman in the corner. He squeezed her up against the end of the car, tooit out a newspaper, and shoving it half across her face began to read. She stood it for about five minutes. "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 yonr wife a little woman that won't say her sonl's her own and Iets you impose on her all you want tó? I suppose she carries in the coal, builds the fires, gets your slippers, does the marketing, mends your clothes, tends to the children, submits like a lamb when you find fault and is generally an excellent wife, ain't sheV" "Madam" - he began. "Don't say a word, " she interruptort. "I'm riot your wife, am I?" "No, andl'ra" "That's all right. An'd as I'rn not I don't propose to have you sitting down on me and crowding me up in this corner till I can 't breathe without wheezing liko a steam engine. Why don't you get out and walk?" and the