The citizen. [volume] (Berea, Ky.) 1899-1958, 1917-05-10
KILLING THE Love Stuff
BY OLIVE ROBERTS BARTON.

All the week Sylvia had buried her
nose In the papers on her desk, all the
week she had read and sorted and
blue-penciled and dictated amidst the
roaring Of 80 typewriters and the
shrilling Of the telephones. A fiction
editor under such circumstances is
likely to get stalled on romance.
Love, love, love, It's always love-"
she declared with disgust. II get so
sick Of this everlasting stuff I think
Ill scream II someone isn't murdered
soon or the hero doesn't die before his
time. But / have to throw them out II
they're not dripping with love for
that's what the public demands.
No one heard these sentiments for
the roaring and shrillIng went on I'M
ceasingly, drowning almost every other
sound. Even Brilles, the hard-hearted
managing editor on the other side of
the big room was adding to the pande-
monium by forcibly calling down a cub
for missing big thing he vas sent to
cover the night before.
II think" she mused, as she put on
her hat and jacket and hooked up her
furs, shat / can't accept any more
stories from Treador vane. The slush
Is getting so thick / can't wade
through. Sometime I'll put 1t up to
Brilles. He's about as romantic and
unbendable as a plate-glass window.
hut not" she glanced over at him quiz
zically. $50 transparent. A regular
sphinx. l should say"
She reached the street. narrow
canyon between the high cliffs Of build
ings. She was greatly surprised
that the cold, drizzling rain that was
falling Mt noon had stopped and that
the thermometer had not only fallen
25 degrees, but that wind, biting and
strong, was tearing down the street
and freezing everything as It went.
Pedestrians were cropping their way
along keeping close to the wall for
safety, but It was hazardous business.
Sylvia watched n moment from the
haven Of the vestibule. She had three
squares to go for her car. Then she
had happy thought. Up in the locker
room she had pair Of skates.
When she went through the big
room Brilles was still at his desk
Erilles, the flintlike, the heartless, the
much-to-be-feared.
Sylvia stopped beside him. He
turned in his swivel chair and regard
ed her silently. running his eyes over
her slim, girlish figure in its brown
Jersey suit, soft furs and little hat
under which her face glowed like a
rose.
"What is IT." he asked quite gently.
81 want to ask you II you don't think
we're running too much sentiment in
the story column. I've been keeping
everything with love in 1t, and return
ing hundreds of ripping good stories
just because the hero forgot to kiss his
iirl or the parson refused to marry the
old maid l thought I'd ask your opin-
ion. How would 1t do to run In an
occasional good one on another theme?
All this love stuff is just a dream"
SIS It'll"
"Yes-you know II as well as do.
But the public is queer. They're
crazy about one Treador Vane. per-
sonally wouldn't give his truck room
In the ash barrel"
Brilles tapped his desk minute
thoughtfully. Look here, Miss Hun
ter, you're here to run that column.
90, a., oo ,a,, nlaasa ohnut II Two ron n
that Vane stuff myself and I'm sure l
agree with you. You're right about
the love business, too. Even the girls
nowadays don't know what 1t means.
BUSINESS or something has taken all
the romance out Of them. You're a
good example yourself"
Sylvia started and remembered her
own summing up Of the managing edi-
tor. Certainly the verdict was mutual.
ats bad night and I'm getting my
skates" she said as she left. I'm 60
ing to skate to the car on the pave
ment."
But as she glided over the slippery
street she decided not to take the car.
Crossing a street, Sylvia cOllided
with a man. They went down togeth-
er In heap.
"Miss Hunterl" cried he springing
up.
"Mr. Brilles." exclaimed Sylvia.
"Are you hurtf
"Not a bit"
But when Sylvia got to her feet
with his help she turned pale. II be-
lieve I've twisted my foot" she said.
"Oh, that's too bad! Can you bear
your weight on II at ALI"
Eyes, II don't move It."
'Then I'll tow you home. How far
is itr'
"About four squares"
When they reached her door she In
sisted that he come In. "YOu haven't
had dinner. have your she asked.
mo" he admitted.
"Then you must share ours" she In
sisted.
So Brilles, the fiinted-hearted,
stayed and spent the evening. The
next morning the pretty editor laid a
page from a note book on his desk In
the office. 81 found this on the floor !"
she smiled teasingly.