to swear and Pop choked back so many cuss words that he gained eleven pounds in weight.
It's a funny thing about people driving cars. They never have any fun. They are always sore at the driver ahead of them. They cuss the driver in back of them. They blast all the traffic constables. They swear at the tires, condemn the roads, argue with the signposts, get black in the face with congested Billingsgate, roast all the speed regulations, hurl threats at the pedestrians and renounce civilization.
I never have yet ridden in any cars where the man at the wheel laughed except at some suffering on the part of humanity. The minute he starts to steer he becomes a plague to education and hopes that some orphan asylum will turn up or that somebody will twist a canary bird's neck.
I never ride in automobiles any more. The only chauffeur I ever saw smile turned out to be feeble-minded.
He was driving with one hand and had the other around my waist and he asked me to marry him and
