The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1902-01-16

arms around his neck and give him a
good hug. He finally saw me. D.
and the look he gave was so re-.
vealing. knew at once he had heard
OF my engagement. Well, went into
that millinery store-I beg La Ferte's
pardon, emporium--my head full of
Freddie, my thoughts with him
How, then, D., could I remember
what the senator would like? We'll
didn't. And now imagine wearing
hat during ones honeymoon that
Will be forever suggesting another
man!
May ia long letter from the sen.
ator this morning that fills me with
the liveliest qualms. He reminds mo
that next month will forever put an
end to our separation and asks me
how I'm getting along with my prep
arations. That's just the rub, to mis-
quote the immortal Billie. I'm get
ting along, o, yes, getting along. but
really and most literally not in the
fashion the senator would like. IT.
began with the hat. You remember
dear D., it was purchased with a
view to pleasing Freddie's taste, not
my future husbands. 1 suppose if I
had heroically resisted thoughts of
Freddie and remembered only the
senator in the purchase of that hat
the rest would have been plain sailing
and the result swagger trousseau.
Rut aIaSi did not roc;e+ ,na ,x-a..
other article I have purchased so far
is in keeping with that hat, all dainty
enough, you know, dear D., but
hardly suitable for the wealthy sem
ator's bride. I'm actually frightened
when L look at my travelling gown.
Gray-it's the senator's abomination.
had gray gown once, D., when
L first knew Freddie-I wore my
gowns long time in those days
| and he said looked like a cool, sweet
nun in it. He said I should always
wear gray, it went SO we'll with vio-
let's. 1t was absurd of him, for my
eyes are really only an ordinary blue.
Now, isn't this the supremest folly,
D, and oughtn't 1 to be ashamed
of myself! 1t is and I am, but, Oh,
D, am becoming desperately un-
happy. l have not seen him for
week, D. I'm seriously tempted
to trump up some excuse and go
down to his Office.
May 27-I had luncheon with Fred
die to-day, and afterwards finished
my shopping. Yes, I know the for
mer was injudicious, but the latter
| was, too, dear D.. For instance,
there's that box of pearl gray suede
| gloves. Now, the senator thinks a
woman should wear nothing but
white gloves. Freddie-ah, we'll, what
can it matter to me now what Fred
die ever said? He doesn't love me,
d. I'm sure of that at last. I
went to Dorser's on purpose this
! noon, for l know he eats his luncheon
there, poor boy. 1t is breakfast for
him, working all night as he does!
He was there eating all by himself,
and / sat down at the table with him,
though he never invited me. o, the
luncheons we've had together at that
little cafe and the fun of it all! l
have sold my birthright for mess of
pottage, and have realized it all too
late. Do you know, D., I went to
that cafe with the deliberate inten-
tion of giving Freddie a chance of
telling me he loved me. What would
l have done if he had? Why, Tilted
the senator with good grace. Yes,
would. But Freddie was-well, not
freezing exactly, but awfully grave
and preoccupied. He spoke of my en-
gage ment quite calmly, hoped I'd be
happy, and then, in the most indiffer-
ent way, began to speak of Washing
ton life. And all the while felt so
small and SO miserable and wished I
weren't woman. and I was tempted
to tell him then And there that
loved him and him only. Then I felt
wild desire to break something and
I'm sure I looked wretched, and he
had such disgracefully good appe-
tite and-O, it was horrid! Well, l
told him good-by and finished that
detestable shopping. o, D., I am