A down-town woman got mad at her husband the other day, and inwardly vowed that she wouldn't speak to him again ; no, never. And how that man did enjoy himself. A restful calm settled over him ; he put his feet on the window-sill, smoked his cigar in the parlor, went out early and came in very late, ate with his knife, brought friends home to dinner unexpectedly, stayed in bed until the fire was kindled, and inhaled more true joy than he had ever dreamed the married state afforded. And that woman was dancing mad, and grew madder every day till at last she broke out, and the freshet of tears was but a preface to a deluge of talk that nearly wore the poor man out. —" Tom Weaver."
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/GLOBE18810502.2.19
Bibliographic details
Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2239, 2 May 1881, Page 4
Word Count
129Untitled Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2239, 2 May 1881, Page 4
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