Five-thirty p.m. in the subway. Lillian Cory standing on the platform of a northbound train holding her elbow at just the right angle for stabbing a swarthy gentleman who had discovered that with every lurch of the train he could fall blissfully against Lillian's soft body. She was tightly wedged between him and a large fur-coated woman. The woman had been shopping. She had many packages and kept announcing that they would be crushed if "people" weren't careful. Lillian knew that she was the "people" to whom the woman had reference. It was clearly indicated that it would be greatly appreciated if Lillian would move closer to the swarthy gentleman.
"To hell with you, Kate," thought Lillian, eyeing the fur-coated woman. "Whatever you're getting crushed there can be replaced. It's different with me."
At Seventy-Second Street the fur coat and the packages left the train. There was a second's breathing-space before the crowds from the local came pushing into the Broadway express. Lillian found herself in the center of the car. Each new passenger had forced her a few steps farther from her original stand on the platform. In her new location Lillian arranged her cape and hat and looked about. Well, at least the swarthy gentleman had been left behind. There was now a fat, pompous fellow at her left holding his fist an inch away from
