She had Corralled the Street.
When the Man came around to deliver the seven-pound copy of "Happy Hours
with the Poets," and he paid out his Six Silver Pieces for a queer
Volume that he would not have Read for Six an Hour, he hated himself
worse than ever. He thought some of giving the Book to the Office Boy,
by way of Revenge, but he hit upon a Better Use for it. He put it back
into the Box and carried it Home, and said to his Wife, "See what I have
Bought for you."
It occurred to him that after getting a Present like that, she ought to
let him stay out every Night for a Month. But she could not see it that
Way. He had to tell her that Some Women never seem to Appreciate having
Husbands to Grind and Toil all day, so as to be able to purchase
Beautiful Gifts for them. Then she told him that all the Women of her
Acquaintance had received these Books as Presents, and a crowd of
Married Men must have been given a Club Rate. Then he Spunked up and
said that if she was going to look a Gift Horse in the Mouth, they
wouldn't Talk about it any more.
In the meantime the Grass Widow was living at the Waldorf-Astoria.
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