On June 24, 1933, publication of "Mr. Cowley and the Young." The New Yorker. The Doctor's Son.

    He raised his arm and stuck up one finger, and a bus stopped and he mounted the steps. The top deck was empty except for a young man sitting in the very front seat, on the left side, and a young woman on the front seat on the right side. Mr. Cowley was thankful they were not together. At least they would not misbehave and cause him annoyance by kissing and hugging, the way young people frequently did on bus tops. But then, he decided, as he settled himself and his paper, perhaps it was not so good after all. The young woman seemed to be personable, "attractive," as they say . . . Well, what if the young man should decide to make improper advances? It was his duty, Mr. Cowley felt, to take a hand in cases of that sort. It was his duty as a man and as a gentleman to defend the young woman; but the young man was pretty tall, and he had broad shoulders.

It so happens the young man and the young woman are married, and they've had a spat, and Mr. Cowley should have minded his own business. A good short read.

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