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AIN’T ANGIE AWFUL!

and, my gawd! did not kiss, her bloodshot shrieks sounded as follows:

D! pdq *-&Dzp$Bjz!!! AAR D!gdf*

One would have thought they were dismembering a Member of Congress. Her screams filled the hall to repletion.

And still the man she would vamp and could not, kept three-eighths of an inch from her, his green mustache brushing her nose. It was a ticklish situation for Angela. As near he was as rent day, yet far away as fairyland or the Differential Calculus. She never could tell them apart; few can.

But what, ladies and gentlemen, was the most mysterious machine just abaft her fore-quarter, whose wheel, the while, was revolving with the hellish cruelty of a taxi-meter taking a girl home to the Bronx? It turned on and on. . . . Once she had left the water turned on all day in the bathtub. This was like that—only the floor was not so wet. . . . And as it turned, by her mixed groans one might have suspected her to be a giraffe with a stiff neck.

But she was not. She was only a young girl growing bilious. And at last, answering her cries for help, the room rose on one