The Wahpeton times. [volume] (Wahpeton, Richland County, Dakota [N.D.]) 1879-1919, 1917-04-12
KILLING THE Love STUFF
By OLIVE ROBERTS BARTON.

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! think
Ill scream If 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 un-
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 cub
for missing big thing he was sent to
cover the night before.
Il think" she unused, as she put on
her hat and jacket and hooked up her
furs, 'that can't accept any more
stories from Treador Vane. The slush
is getting so thick I can't wade
through. Sometime I'll put it up tc
Brilles. He's about as romantic and
unhenda5le as plate-glass window,
but not she glanced over at him quiz.
zically, $50 transparent. A regular
sphinx, should say.''
She reached the street, q narrow
canyon between the high cliffs of build.
ings. She was greatly surprised
that the cold, drizzling rain that was
falling at noon had stopped and that
the thermometer had not only fallen
% degrees. but that wind. biting and
strong. was tearing down the street
and freezing everything as it went.
Pedestrians We're cropping their way
along, keeping close to the wall for
safety, but it was hazardous business.
Sylvia watched 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 ct his desk
Brilles. the Aintlike, 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 ard little aat
under which her face glowed like 8
rose.
What is it?" he asked quite gently
II want to ask You if you doa't think
we're running too much sentiment ir
the story column. I've been keeping
everything with love in it. ard return.
ing hundreds of ripping coed stories
just because the hero forgot to kiss his
girl or the parson refused to marry the
old maid. thought I'd ask your orin.
ion. How would it do to run in ar
occasional good one on another theme:
All this love stuff is just Dream
"Is it,"
"Yes-you know it as we'll 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
so 10 as you please about it. I've read
that vane stuff myself and I'm sure
agree with you. You're right about
the love business. too. Even the girls
nowadays don't know what it means.
Business or something has taken all
the romance out of them. You're q
good example yourself"
Sylvia started and remembered her
own summing up of the managing edi-
tor. Certainly the verdict was mutual!
Its a bad night and I'm getting my
skates" she said as she left. I'm go.
ing to skare 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 Hunter!" cried he springing
up.
''N1r. Brilles," exclaimed Sylvia.
care you hurt:"
"Not 5it.'
But when Sylvia got to her feet
with his help she turned pale. Il be.
lieve I've twisted my foot she said.
"Ch, that's too bad! Can you bear
your weight on it ut all?"
"Yes. if l don't move it,
'Then I'll tow you home. How far
is it?"
about four squares"
When they reached her door she in.
sisted that he come in. You haven't
had dinner have you?" she asked.
NO" he admitted.
'Then you must share ours" she in.
sisted.
So Brilles. the flinted-hearted
stayed and spent the evening. The
next morning tine pretty editor laid Il
page from note book on his desk in
the Office. 81 found this on the foor"
she smiled teasingly.
Mr.. Brilles took it and turned q