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OR a young girl, life in New York is hard; so hard as to he practically indigestible. There were times when Angela Bish didn’t know where her next kiss would come from. Other girls fell in love, married, were beaten and divorced. But none of these blessings were vouchsafed Angela.

Indeed, she had so often been thrown down by men that, at the Almost-Fur factory, where she glued whiskers onto blotting paper, to make sealskin coats, they called her Angie the Unbreakable. Disappointed hopes had turned her hair prematurely yellow.

Ill as she could afford the luxury she would have given eight dollars any day for a husband, dead or alive. If wealthy, she would have preferred him dead. But all the matrimonial agencies had given her up as too wonderfully willing. Men, they said, 65