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Originally published in 1903. This volume from the Cornell University Library's print collections was scanned on an APT BookScan and converted to JPG 2000 format by Kirtas Technologies. All titles scanned cover to cover and pages may include marks notations and other marginalia present in the original volume.
Originally published in 1893. This volume from the Cornell University Library's print collections was scanned on an APT BookScan and converted to JPG 2000 format by Kirtas Technologies. All titles scanned cover to cover and pages may include marks notations and other marginalia present in the original volume.
Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: n A GOOD time to tell a husband anything that can be argued about is while he is fighting his way into a dress shirt, or maybe with his mouth full of tooth paste, which gives him time to think twice before coming back at you. By a long wifely experience I have learned this, and so that evening when I got home I waited until Jim was at the shirt stage before breaking the whole truth to him. He had got back from the studio late, and commenced flinging off his coat and hollering for his dress suit almost before he was properly inside the flat, and you would of thought it was my fault he was late, and he always pulls the first holler, and if he keeps it up long and loud enough he gets away with it; and I sometimes think maybe I am to blame because he missed the ferry or the car broke down or whatever was the cause of the delay. And any other wife will confess to the fact that husbands have an awful mysterious way of putting you in the wrong for something they have done their own selves, and the easiest way to restore peace is to let them get away with it. Well, anyways, this evening I was home and waiting in a snappy black taffeta resterant frock and Maison Rosa- belle had charged me twenty dollars extra for calling it a frock instead of a dress. Well, anyways, I was home waiting in it and a sort of calm excitement over being about to burst into highbrow society, and also a new hat with a tulle crown and a fur brim to keep my brains warm in case the company was cold to me, when in bursts Jim, his latchkey going wild and not working, the way they always act when you are in a hurry. "Well, kid, I hope you are all ready," he says before I could say it to him, "because we are late now," he says. "Got my things out?" "They are," I says, "on the bed, and I been dressed for an...