“Was you at the Chorus Girls’ Ball last Saturday night?  My, I would hate to cast any reflections on the judges, but their choice certainly was bum.  Still I suppose they are old men and not up on the modern 1908 rules on osculation.

“In their day when a young man imprinted a chaste salute on a dame’s alabaster forehead he was supposed to go into a fit of delight, but not according to this year’s book.  Now they clinch with a strangle hold and stick till one or the other drops from exhaustion.  I did not enter the contest, for I am not a chorus girl; I am a show girl, if you please.  What’s the difference?  Five a week.

“This kissing craze is getting to be something scandalous.  Not that I object to it.  But I blush to think that the time-honored customs that were once performed in the front parlor, with the gas turned low, is now used in contests and numbered as a feat of strength.

“Wilbur and I went to the ball together, and as soon as he struck the hut he wanted to rush right over and run a few trial heats with the contestants, but the easy way with which I made him change his mind was a joy to the eye.  He said to me as we went in the door, I think I will toddle over to the paddock and see if the fillies are in form.  He was making a wild rush to check his shawl when I mentioned casual like, as if I wasn’t noticing myself saying it, ’You know that I am an added starter.’  Bing!  Skyrockets!  Wilbur goes up in the air and comes down all spraddled out.

“‘What!’ he pipes, as soon as he got his breath, ’my financed bride billed to appear in a hugging handicap?  Not yet!  Sabrina you certainly do jag my jib to think that you would enter into such a deal.  From now on our trail parts.’  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said.  ’What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, and if you pull off any stunts you can figure that I will be in the running.  And that goes as it lays.’

“That was no nice language for a lady, but it put the brakes on Wilbur’s osculatory aspirations so quick that he stopped with a jolt.  He canceled the date and we went up into the box and stood in the receiving line for wine agents.

“Wilbur knew that he had to stand hitched or I wouldn’t let him go to the Twenty-three Club dinner tonight.  He has been training for the event for the last two weeks, and he says that he will be able to outdistance the bunch before 4 a.m., and you know that’s going some.

“It’s a pity they wouldn’t let us women in on their feed deals.  They go out and fill up on beefsteak while we have to stick around and drown our sorrows in a cheese sandwich.  And goodness knows that while they are nourishing they don’t give you any new ideas.

“I only hope our show is a success, for if Wilbur and I get married every penny will help, and I don’t want to lance my personal fresh air fund for anything more than a bridal veil.  Wilbur and I are just like two doves, but I am taking no chances, for press agents are fickle people.