she watched him enter and give a glad howl to find himself alone. Then, while he was absorbedly removing a wad of gum from his heel, behold, she sprang upon him, clasped him in a fond embrace—and clung.
Reader, bear in mind that I expressly reserve all emotion picture rights. The desperate girl had coated herself from hair to heel with paste! It was sour but sticky.
Alas, for him, there was now no getting away. Never had he found a woman so attractive, never one who could hold him so long. When he had tired of them, he had always cast them carelessly aside. But not so Angela Bish, the clinger. Proud as he was of his early struggles as a paper hanger, they were nothing to the writhings with which he now sought to regain his freedom.
It was useless, of course, to appeal to the Supreme Court for a separation. They were not yet married. But, as he fought, an idea, bright as the Star Spangled Banner, carried him and equally her (Oh, say can you see them, welded together like two bars of chocolate in the dawn’s early light?) towards the bathroom!
Before she had time to regret having left
