Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1917-03-22
KILLING THE Love STUFF
BY OLIVE ROBERTS BARTON,

blue-penciled and dictated amidst the
roaring OF 30 typewriters and the
shrIlling of the telephones. A fiction
editor under such circumstances Is
likely to get stalled on romance.
"Tove, love, love, It's always love-"
she declared with disgust. II get so
sick Of this everlasting stuff think
I'll scream IL someone isn't murdered
soon or the hero doesn't die before his
time. But have to throw them out IL
they're not dripping with love for
that's what the public demands.
4 No one heard these sentiments for
iithe roaring and shrilling went on un-
ceasfnsly 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 was 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 I can't wade
through. Sometime I'll put 1t up to
Brilles. He's about as romantic and
unbendable as plate-glass window,
but not" she glanced over at him quiz
zically, $50 transparent. A regular
sphinx, I should say"
She reached the street, a 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 q wind, biting and
strong, was tearing down the street
and freezing everything as 1t went.
Pedestrians were cropping their way
along, keeping close to the wall for
safety, but 1t was hazardous business.
Sylvia watched q 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
Brilles, the fiintlike, 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 Id its brown
Jersey suit, soft furs and little hat
under which her face giowed like q
rose.
what Is itT' he asked quite gently.
IL want to ask you IL You don't think
we're running too much sentiment in
the story column, I, 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
girl or the parson refused to marry the
old maid. 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"
ITS it,"
"Yes-you know 1t as well as do. !
But the public Is queer. They're
crazy about one Treador vane. / per-
sonaiiy wouldn't give his truck room |
IN the ash barrel"
Brilles tapped his desk a minute
fbousth tfully. "Look here, Miss Hun |
ter. you're here to run that column.
30 do as you please about IT. rye read
that vane stuif myself and Pm sire /
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.
''It's bad night and I'm getting my !
skates" she said as she left. "Tm go
Ing to skate to the car en- the pave
ment."
Bat as she glided over the slippery
street she decided not TO take the car. !
Crossing a street. Sylvia collided .
with man. They went down togeth-
er In a heap.
Miss Hunter" cried he springing
NJ.
"iIr. Brilles." exclaimed Sylvia.
"Are you hurt?"
"Not a bit"
Bat when Sylvia got to her feet
with his help she turned pale. II be-
ffeve I've twisted my feot." she said.
~oh. that's too bad Can you bear
your weight on 1t at allr'
Eyes, II don't move H.
Then I'll tow you home. How far
Is itY
."About four squares"
q. When they reached her door she In
sisted that no come In. "You haven't
had dinner. have your she asked
''No," he admitted.
'-rhen you must shafe ours" she In
sisted.
So Bibles, the fiinted-hearted,
stayed and spent the evening. The