Dick White, so the story goes, tires of the humdrumness of married life and sighs regretfully as he recalls the short days and long nights of single blessedness. To be free again for a day, a week, or two weeks, just to experience once more a little season of midnight suppers, frolicsome girls and joy rides is what he longs for. His morose mood finally attracts the attention of his wife, who inquires if he is not feeling well. Happy thought! Dick gobbles the cue and a brilliant idea takes form in his mind. “Ill? Of course he is ill; indeed, he feels that his days are numbered.” A doctor is hurriedly summoned and of course is “put next” by Dick before the examination. As a result the doctor shows surprise and alarm during the examination and informs Mrs. White that what Dickie needs is rest and quiet and a sea voyage, positively a sea voyage. When the doctor leaves Dick calls up Johnny Graham, an old pal, and tells him to come over immediately. When the latter arrives, much worried over his friend’s apparent illness, Dick gets him alone and chucks him in the ribs. “I’m not ill, you idiot!” he laughs. “Can’t you see the joke! It’s this way: I have a sort of sneakin’ feeling to shake the bonds of matrimony for a season and revel once more under the glittering lights of old Broadway with the merry, merry girls, the honk-honk wagons and the midnight lobsters. Are you next? Eli?” Then Dick unravels the fable of the sea voyage, how he fixed it with the M.D., and how easily they can give their wives the slip. John takes him up and says he can very easily arrange it with his own wife. It is amusing to what a degree the schemers “fix things.” Steamship routes are discussed and continental guides digested, until the great day of the “sailing.” The two wives are left together and the two husbands take the train for New York, “where they will engage passage on the Montannia, which sails the next morning.” Two days later, while the wives are discussing poor Dick’s sad slate of health, the maid rushes into the room with a paper which announces startling news: “The Montannia has sunk with all on board; not a person saved!” Of course, the tragedy is almost unspeakable to the two poor little wives who will never again see their darling Jackie and Dickie; and here we will draw the curtain and endeavor to locate in the throng of merrymakers of those Forty-Second Street cafés our two revelers and renegades. We find them at a stage floor waiting for two show girls. Of course, they have been too busy to have read of the Montannia disaster. We follow them and two girls to a swell café, and the next morning we find them in their room at the hotel, a room littered with poker chips and playing cards, preparing to return home. As positive proof of their sea voyage they have purchased a quantity of “White Star Line” stickers, which they apply to their suit cases. Later we see them alight from an auto in front of Dick’s home. The latter is “much improved in health” when the two men enter the parlor. Then they see the two life sized portraits of themselves, decked out with crepe and wreaths of mourning! “Great Scott! What is this?” The maid enters, sees them and believing them ghosts flies out of the room. The two wives enter and when they are really satisfied that the two are not apparitions but real flesh and blood, they begin questioning them as to how they were saved. You may imagine the closing scenes when they learn of the sinking of the Montannia in mid-ocean and all on board lost! Of course, no excuses are possible, and the two unfortunate young fellows get their just deserts