Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 293, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 April 1924 — Page 8

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BEGIN MEKG TODAY Dolly a irovern-ss 19 in love with her poor suitor. Robert Durham. When Nife! Bretherton. who has money, fills in love with her. Dolly gives up Hfobert and marries Nigel. The marriage proves an unhappy one. When war is declared. Nigel is glad to enlist He leaves Dolly in the rare of his friend. Mary Furnival. Mary eomes to live in Dolly's flat. Doily goes for a walk and by accident meets Robert Durham He tells her that he has prospered and that now he has plenty of money. _ When word comes that Nigel has hosn killed in action. Dolly marries Robert in Do don and sails with him to America. Nigel's older brother. David, calls to see Nigel 9 widow. He mistakes Mary for Dolly. NOW GO ON WITH THK STORY ••I - I CAME straight to you. lain | I afraid you must have thought I me unkind —unfeeling, .if you saw the letter I wrote. I was sorry as soon as It had gone. I came home earlier than I had really intended In the hope of seeing Nigel before he went to France. If he got my letter “It was sent here; he never saw it.” “I am glad.” The silence fell again the man's eyes were wandering round the room. It was comfortable and tastefully furnished. but he thought of the Red Grange—its lofty rooms, and priceless pictures, ad thought that his brother must have loved this woman very much to be content. Mary's eyes fallowed the direction of his gaze; it had fallen on the little table where lay the few possessions of Nigel s that had been sent home after he died. She indicated them with a hand •hat trembled. “A friend of his sent those back tfter—afterwards. There is a letter for you- amongst them—we have not opened it. It was written the night before he was killed.” Bretherton walked over to the table, nd stood looking down at the littlg collection. They might have belonged •o any man —the pipe, the shabby to;>acco pouch, the little bundle of letters. David Bretherton put out -his hand and picked up a little gold lock . i lying conspicuously there. "This was our mother's,” he said. “Yes,” said Mary dully. She could t-emember in happier days when Nigel had worn It from his watch chain; she imd not touched it since it came home -Afehe had not been able to bring herself to move any of the iittle things since Dolly had put them there. David was fingering the little locket; it was flat, and engraved with a worn monogram. . He touched the little spring, and the case opened. Mary was watching him listlessly.

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CIPAPTER VII The Photograph After a moment lie turned, and looked across at her. “This is your photograph in here,” he styd. She started, a wave of color rushed to her pale face. “My photograph! Oh, no—” He came across to where she stood. He held the little trinket to her, open on the palm of his hand. "I am sure this is your photograph,” he said again. She bent toward him, wholly doubting. then she gave a little stifled cry. Her own face looked back at her in a miniature from the gold case;

BRETHERTON WALKED OVER TO THE TABLE. an old .photograph which she had given to Nigel long ago—so long ago that she had forgotten it until this moment, when she saw It so unex pecigc^y. David shut the case with a little snap. “It is yours.” he said. “Yes —I had forgotten. I gave it to him long ago.” There were tears in her voice, and tears in her Jieart as she thought of that long ago—before he was married—when she had hoped—when* she had believed, that perhaps some day—She checked her thoughts with a bitter sigh. How long had h>* carried that photograph with him? She was afraid to try and answer the question. She wondered dully if Dolly 'had seen it, and if so. what she had thought. David was watching her. “You have known my brother some time?” ht- asked. “Nearly six years.” He turned away. He went back to the little table and laid down the locket gently, as if it were something he were afraid of hurting. Across the room Mary watched him. He was not in the least like his brother, she told herself achingly; and yet—she was fiercely glad that he was npt. She could not have borne It had he looked at her with Nigel s lips.

This man was taller, thinner, more delicate looking; his hair was brown, too Nigel’s had been fair, with a boyish kink in it; this man’s was Straight He looked much older than Nigel, more manly, perhaps, more reliable; she realized this vaguesly, even while she resented it. “You will not stay on here, of course,’’ he said after a moment. Mary started. “Here! In this fiat do you mean?’’ “Yes. You are young—you can not live alone.’’ “I lived till I came here.” she ha!4 smiled. “I am not very young,” she told him. with a touch of whimsicality. His grave eyes searched her face. “You can not five alone—you would mope yourself to death.” She felt the tears rising. She turned her face away. He came back to the table. “You said that there was a letter for me—from Nigel.” “It Is with the papers there.” “May I take it?” he asked. * “Please.” She heard the rustling of the scrappy sheets of paper in his hands. It seemed a long time before he spoke again. “You have not read this?” “I?” She raised her eyes to him. “Oh. no!” He made no comment. He put the letter into the breast pocket of his coast. There was a grim line about his mouth. She watched him disinterestedly. For the first time she noticed how wet his coat was aboQt the shoulders. She rose hurriedly. “You f.re wet through; please - ’take off your coat. I ought to have asked you before. And can’t I ofTer you anything—some coffee, some wine?” He shorOt his head. “I had dinner before I came, and I must be getting on. I want to go down home tonight.” Her face lit up sensitively. “To the Red Grange?” “Yes, have you been there T‘ “Once.” “It is a fine old place. It has been let since I went abroad, you know, but the lease was up last month. I shall live there myself no\U” “Yes.” He was buttoning his coat, “If there is anything I cap do for you—” he began hesitatingly. “I hope you will remember that I am Nigel’s brother. If you are n?eding money—” She looked surprised. “Thank you; I have all I want. But there is this flat and the furniture; I don’t know what to do with it.” He glanced round. “The best -fhing would be to sell everything. You had better get right I away: there is nothing so painful as memory.” „ He took her hand. "You must not stay here alone,*’ he said decidedly. “I will think what can be done, and write to you.” \ CHAPTER VIII “You Loved I, ’gel?” | Sh-- followed Ijim into he hall, and he stood there in the dim I light of the narrow passage, for the

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—

/&CXSTS ARE ABSOLUTELY-DOM BRECKENRIDtE sAlfr\ /TVtRt. LOOK !' M THAIS A COUPLE I Kin ~D 7 \ \ I YOU SURE. XMHaiKM TOU) HIM THAT JOW THtWOTHEY Os YOU'RE GOODBYE , - , 7 \\n

* WNU ’>' @ Jl A DRUMMER CHICAGO SLIPPED ON A CAKE OF SOAP AT THE CENTRAL HOTEL TODAY AND BECAME fM \I% HOPELESSLY ENTANGLED )N THE NEW ROLLER }] I V TOWEL RECENTLY THERE J, *%>

MOM N POP—

C HULLV GEE ‘- I CANT TELL MOM f l WHERE WERE V w ELI.NOW N'SEE f HOW COME ? FELIX HAS V £5 VOU BiG FIBBER - X DON'T V ( 1 WOZ IN JAIL ALL NI6HT FDR \ „ IR y QU iaST rs FELIX ASKED ME TO A v BEEN AWftS FOR A WEEK J ‘I KNOW WHAT I'M 601N6 TO <. ( SHE’D BE DIS6RACED- 50 I'VE A, *( ( STOP AN’LOOK AT II l AND WONT BE HOME —. I DO WITH SOU - SUCH LIES I .*. / A S SURE GOT T' Think FAST-/—mroai K N,toni •/ ( HIS RADIO AN'WE S ! UNTIL TOMORROW J,/ WELL-1 MIGHT AS ) 7 I JuST CAN’T BELIEVE A J #1 ’j'.. ” ” '

first time she could trace a likeness to his dead brother. It was only indefinable—something in the cut of his shoulders, something in the turn of his head; but for a moment she could almost ch®at herself into the belief that it was Nigel who stood there. I Blinding tears rushed to her eyes; lor a moment she hid her face in her hands. When she looked up again, David Bretherton was watching her. She began a stumbling apology.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

"I am so sorry! But Just now you looked so like Nigel—" She bit bar lip; she could not go on. His grave face softened wonderfully. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You loved Nigel?” he said. She answered him sobbingiy: “Oh, I did—l did!}’ Somehow there seemed no shame in the made to “this man. Nigel was dead, and the lmowledge of

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Better Than Pop Expected

her love could not harm him. Even afterwards, when David had gone, she did not regret the little impulsive admission. CHAPTER IX The Photograph When David Bretherton left Mary, he took a taxi and drove straight to an address in Hampstead. There was a little frown on his face, and during the drive he sat staring before him lost- in thought. Once he put up ,-his hand to feel the

— , V * /vwofp O Yo\ WA<6 > MAUIM ALL \ | US& DAr /CrrV up' l \ \blanks©ur ‘lrtv PMiXi - —-r 1 | | im J llwlil^ WAS© FUNK ISkfl TPIEONLrf' PERSON WHO HAS gotten all wrapped in tbat old morse of his a.FwlWjs

They’re Off

FRECKLES .USD HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

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letter lying In his breast-pocket. Once he took it out and carefully reread the hastily scribbled pages. He hod not seen Nigel for more than years, and, now that he would never see him again, little memories of their boyhood’s days came crowding back to him —of Nigel, always in disgrace for some dare-devil exploit; of Nigel taking his punishment at school with a grin on his good-natured face; of Nigel going for the thing he wanted, always determined to get it at whatever cost. And now a Yivid Imagina-

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

tion’flashed him a jjicture of Nigel lying dead on the battlefied. David knew that it was the death Nigel would have chosen for himself. He was so brave, so headlong! His thoughts went hack to Mary. She was so different from the Woman h© had pictured as his brother's wife—so much more womanly, so much less like the dolly type of girl that Nigel had always admired. And she had genuinely loved him; of that there could be no doubt. It therefore made Nigel's last letter all

MONDAY, APRIL 21, 1924

—By MARTIN

—By TAYLOR

the more extraordinary and difficult to understand. The taxi had stopped now. The driver came to the door. “Is this the house, sir?” (Continued in Our Next Issue) Useless Prize RICHMOND, England, April 21. Nine haircuts and shampoos was the mystery prize won by a bald-headed player at a recent whist tournament held herV. The winner Is thinking of giving up bridge.