A woman is sure a good, sthrong man ought to be able to kill anny
number iv bad, weak men, but a man is always wondherin' what th'
other la-ad wud do. He might have th' punch left in him that wud
get th' money. A woman niver cares how manny men are kilt, but a
man believes in fair play, an' he'd like to see th' polis intherfere
about Chapter Three.

"Women writes all th' good romantic novels, an' read thim all.
If anny proud la-ad in th' gum business thinks he riprisints th'
ideal iv his wife's soul, he ought to take a look at th' books she
reads. He'll larn there th' reason he's where he is, is because
he was th' on'y chanst, not because he was th' first choice. 'Twud
humble th' haughtiest prince iv thrade to look into th' heart iv
th' woman he cares most f'r an' thinks laste about, an' find that,
instead iv th' photygraft iv a shrewd but kindly man with a thriflin'
absence iv hair on his head an' a burglar-proof safe on his
watch-charm, there's a pitcher iv a young la-ad in green tights
playin' a mandolin to a high front stoop. On th' stoop, with a
rose in her hand, is his lawful-wedded wife, th' lady Annamariar
Huggins iv Peotone. Ye can't keep her away fr'm a romantic novel.
No matther what Edward Atkinson tells ye, she prefers 'Th' Age iv
Chivalry' to th' mos' atthractive housewurruk. A woman's readin'
is niver done. Hardly a day passes but some lady frind iv mine
stops me on me way to catch a car, an' asks me if I don't regard
Morse Hewlett as th' gr-reatest an' mos' homicidal writer iv our
time, an' what I've got to say about Hinnelly's attack on Stevenson.
'Madam,' says I, 'I wud n't know Morse if I was to see him goin'
down th' sthreet ax in hand, an' as f'r Hinnelly, his name escapes
me, though his language is familiar to anny wan who iver helped
load a scow. Stevenson,' I says, 'does n't appeal to me, an' if