The Virginia enterprise. [volume] (Virginia, St. Louis County, Minn.) 1893-19??, 1900-12-07

an Paris is the dressing-room of the
world. One enters it en- deshabille; one
leaves it clothed.'
"Nhen DO YOU propose going?' asked
the woman.
Il want to be THERE replied her hus-
band--"let me see, on the 10Th.
':Oh, DEAR exclaimed Mrs. Hollebone,
playing her last card. paris is 50 dread
fully hot in August; it would upset me-"
Hollebone accepted his defeat Il
wanted to be back for the shooting,
dear he said with fair grace: land |
cant promise to take YOU there LATER"
Besides, I've promised to stay with
''Where:"
lon: somewhere near southampton"
"Sonthampton. said Hollebone to
himself: "Of course
Go by yourself, Eustace," continued
his wife, with an air OF persuasion. 1T
will do YOU good: and l can trust you
over there alone
Mr.. Hollebone gave neither the retort
courteous nor the retort obvious; h..
smiled grimly to himself and finished his
meal.
After breakfast Mr.. Hollebone walked
cityward the thoughts that came to him
We're not of the most pleasant.
Its Il deuced bad case he muSel.
She would have jumped at the trip !,
week ago-and now-she1l go down TO
Southampton and-something will get
5&st then the cab passed a postofficc.
a sudden thought struck him. H..
stopped the driver and alighted
That afternoon a yellow envelope wa:
brought TO him in his chambers. He
burst it open. read it. slapped his thigh
vigorously. and laughed aloud Then he
sat back in his chair. and for fully five
minutes il broad smile played upon his
face.
In another FIVE minutes he had locked
his papers up and left his office in high
spirits.
This is marvellous age" remarked
AIR. Hollebone over his soup that even
ing. Il have sent a message thousand
miles and have received all answer since
l lett YOU this morning.
His wife made gallant attempt to look
interested vet unconcerned.
all about. it, Went on the man: and be-
meant what he said "A most interest
ing little affair. l hope it will turn out
! all right It's quite romantic"
Mrs: Hollebone felt that she must say
something.
Il thought romance was Dead" she
ventured, with Il faint smile.
"Ah: my dear" replied her husband,
I'VE have been married now for 1--WE
years. 1t is only the mddle-aged who
pine after the middle ages The Young.
if not content with things as they are,
are content with things as they will be.
Take modern lover, make him hope
/ less case, and let duty call him to Edin-
burgh from his loved ones side. She
sees him off at Euston. He can wire to
her from every station at which the
train stops and telephone to her every
ten minutes when he arrives at his tles-
tination. And that's nothing to what he
! expects to be able to do later on. You
are quite right, my dear; romance is
,, dead. 1t has been executed by electric
ity."
On the 14th Of the month Mrs. Hol-
lebone packed several boxes and went
to stay with her friends the BanyardS
for Il month, or at least until Cowes was
over.
On the 10th the Windsor Castle ar
rived at Southampton with sick and
On the 18th Mr.. Hollebone procured an
official list OF the arrivals, and the name
OF Capt. Morbingt0n was not among
them The gallant officer had returned
to duty from Madeira. Mr.. Hollebon>
had heard of that before, but he wanted
to be quite certain.
On the 18th Mr.. Hollebone wrote a
really nice letter to his wife and told her
he would not be able to really enjoy Paris
unless IN her company. and declared that
he would wait her convenience.
On the Goth Mrs Hollebone returned
suddenly to town. Her husband was pu:-
ting the final touch to little volume
(now in press).
Il managed to get away. Eustacc."
she burst out 1T was so dull. fake me
to Paris.'
"That's right, little woman" said Hol-
lebone, kissing her again. I'VE shall
start tomorrow and have good time. and
be back for the shooting And, | say,
dearie, man is a queerly- constituted brute
that gets more selfish as he gets older.
I'm going to try and reverse the opera
ton. and You must try to help me-
ooh, Eustace'' exclaimed his wife,
"How ridiculous!''
And the rest Of the day was spent IN
the framing of good ntentions.-Vanity
Fair.