Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 297, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 April 1924 — Page 16

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BKGIN HERK TODAY The marriife of Dolly and Kigel Brethrrton rrove? a.) unhappy one When war is ieolaretl. Nisei „ sl.ul to enlist. He leaves Dolly in the care of his friend. Mary rnrnival. Nisei is killed in action and Dolly marries an old sweetheart, Robert Durham. Ddllv and Robert said for America. leaving Mary in Dolly's flat. When Nisei's older brother. David, calls to see Nigel's widow. Mary is ashamed to tell him of Dolly's marriage. David mistakes Mary for his brother's wife and asks he to come to lve at Red Grange with his aunt and himself. Mary had visited Rtd Grange for a day with Nigel, during Da ."id's absence. She ioves the place and longs to go there to live for awhile. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY mUST for that one short day spent there with Nigel she had been so happy—so very happy. Even now, though it was three years ago, she had but to close her eyes to see the old house, and the belt of tress, and wonderful sloping lawns. David held out his hand. ‘•Write and tell me when you have made up your mi.nd,” he said. Her fingers shook in his kind, friendly grasp. She knew that already she wished to make up her mind, knew that she would sacrifice anything to go back there, even if Just for one day—one week. But she did not tell him so now, and presently he went away, leaving her alon. once more. \ a? All day long the torment of what she wanted to do haunted her: sue even found herself weighing up the probable chances of discovery. They were so very small. people who had known Nigel as one of the Brethertons of Grange had ever known him after his marriage in London. And Dolly had never been a girl to make friends: she had dropped almost entirely out of her own set when she naanued. in the hope that Nigel's circle would take her up. When she found that such a hope was vain, she had not troubled to create a world of her own.

And now she was on the other side of the world. She might never come back, and even if she dil —well, she was no longer Mrs. Nigel Bretherton. “And I loved h'm best!” Mary hugged that knowledge tight :•> her heart when she lay awake at s&.s. stops Iheumatism i'jr.d with it pain and its probability of reaching’ the heart. “Rheumatism? Me? No, indeed, s all gone, every bit of it! It’s . nshine and Joy for me now for i . first time in years. I feel a “My Rheumatism p all cone.” wonderful glory again in the free motion I used to have when my days wer© younger. I look at my hands and think of the twists and swellings they used to have. I bend way over to the floor. I haven’t been able to do that in many years. I can thank S. S. S. for it all! To me it was a rising sun of joy and iberty. Brothers and sisters in nisery, do not close your eyes and think that health, free motion and itrength are gone from you forever! It is not so. It is here and now for all of you. S. S. S. is waiting to help you.” There is a reason why S. S. S. will help you. When '*vv increase the number of your .‘-jis’, the entire system undergoes a tremendous change. Everything depends on blood-strength. Blood which is minus sufficient red-cells leads to a long list of troubles. Rheumatism is one of them. S. S. S. is the great blood-cleanser, blood-builder, system strengthener, nerve iuvigorator. It stops skin eruptions, too, pimples, blackheads, acne, boils, eczema. It builds up run-down, tired men and women, beautifies complexions, makes the flesh firmer. Start S. S. S. today. It is sold at all good drug stores. The larger size is more economical. £? makes mou feel tike yourself again.

Stiff, Swollen Joints Joint-Ease Says: “When Joint-Ease Gets In—Joint Agony Gets Out” It was a high class pharmacist who saw prescription after prescription fail ii help hundreds of his customers td get rid of rheumatic swellings and stiff and inflamed joints. And it was this same man who asserted that a remedy could and would De compounded that would make rreaky, swollen, tormented joints work vith Just as much smoothness as they ?tfer did. Now this prescription, rightly named Toint-Ease. after oeing tested successfully on many obstinate cases, is offered through progressive pharmacists to the millions of people who suffer from ailing joints that need limbering up. twingy. inflamed, stiff, paintormented joints are usually caused by rheumatism, but whatever the cause Joint-Ease -soaks right in through skin and flesh and gets right to and corrects the trouble at its source. Remember. Joint-Ease is for ailments of the joinfs, whether in ankle, knee, hip, elbow, shoulder, spine or finger, and when you rub it on. you may speedy and gratifying results. It is now on sale at Hook Drug Cos. and druggists everywhere for <0 cents a.tube.—Advertisement

night, torn with conflicting enactions. She felt as if her heart were fighting her conscience—her heart that longed to go and do this thing, and her conscience which would not let her give in. CHAPTER XVI A Chance Encounter She rose, after a sleepless night, with a splitting headache. It was raining cold; the whole wcrld looked dreary and depressing. It was one of those days when one feels as if the only possible manner of passing hte time is by drawing the .blinds against the chill, uninviting outside, and banking up a big fire. But Mary sat down by the window . ~ I.

SHE WAS SURPRISED AT HER AGITATION. Once she to write a letter to David, but after the first few words she laid down her pen and could not go on. The paper lay on the table beside her, with its date and “Dear Mr. Bretherton” staring up at her. What could she say? How could she answer him? a To tell him the truni, of course, was the obvious way, and yet her heart clung achingly to the memory of that one day amid the beauties of Red Range. She must go—she must! But the miserable indecision contin- 1 ucd. She pot on her hat and ccat, and went out into the wet world. , The chill, damp air stung her pale j cheeks into a fain* flusn. and soothed the throbbing of her head. “I will go—l will!” she told herself, as she retraced her steps. But when she reached the flat again

she knew that she was as unuecided as ever. What to do? What 4o do? She ate iter lunch without appetite The little maid hovered anxiously about her. “You haven’t heard from Mrs. Bretherton yet. I suppose Miss?” -he asked hesitatingly. “Yes, I have. I thought I told you. She is having a sea trip." The flttle girl stared. “Lor', miss! And shall you go, too?" Mary started. “I don’t know—perhaps. I hope so.” She felt confused and nervous; she was glad when the girl was gone: but the little conversation had shown her how difficult it would be to keep up a subterfuge for any length of time, if even this girl's innocent questioning made her confused and ill at ease. In the afternoon she tried to read, but thought danced between her and the pages. She threw the book impatie/tly aside. Her restlessness drove her again out of doors; she walked on aimlessly, through the wet grayness of closing daylight. She was surprised at her agitation; as a rule she was so self-possessed and quiet; this miserable restlessness frightened her. It began to rain fast; she had brought no umbrella, and in a few minutes she was drenched. She 'uoarded a crowded omnibus and found herself wedged in between a. stout woman and a young clerk reading an evening paper. Mary was cold and chilled to the bone: siv found herself shivering, and hoped she was not going to* be ill. When the conductor came for fares, she remembered with a frightened start that she had not brought her purse. She looked up at him with scared eyes. “I haven’t any money—l'm sorry—T forgot—l must get down." The man looked decidedly unpleasant: he muttered something about having heard that tale before. The young clerk with the evening paper glanced at Mary sympathetically. “Mill you allow me to pay for you 7 It’s so frightfully wet for you to walk.” Before she could answer he had produced a penny and taken a ticket for her. Mary thanked him stammeringly. ,* She was really very thankful. She had dreaded turning out again into the wet night. He was a nice-looking -young fellow. He lowered his paper and began to talk. He said that the weather was too awful for words. He asked if she had far to go. When she told him the road, he said that his own destlation was not a great distance away from it. "I’m in rooms.” he explained. “Not bad rooms, either, considering I only pay 25 shillings a week.” Mary smiled; she found his frankness engaging. ,

"Awful thing, this boat being lost, isn’t it?” he said again, after a moment, in a shocked voice. He indicated the folded paper on his knee. “I haven’t heard anything about it,” said Mary. "I haven’t seen an evening paper.” "It’s the Multane—she was bound for Buenos Ayres—rammed by a tramp steamer in a fog or something —the details are not very certain yet, but they say hardly any one was saved.” Mary was staring at him, whitefaced, horrified. “The Multane! Oh, are you sure?” He looked up quickly, dismayed. "I say, do you know anybody on it? J'm awfully sorry. Look for, yourself.” \H put the paper into her nerveless hands, but she could not read —

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—

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everything seemed to dance before her eyes. "Read It to me.” He obeyed in a troubled voice. One or two passengers near them were listening with interest; Mary’s white face and startled exclamation ha?l arrested their attention. The young man broke off suddenly. "Shall we get out and walk?” he suggested. He thought Mary was going to faint. She 1 1 eved with pathetic eagerness a ; ,a haste; she could not bear

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

THE OLD HOME TOWN —By STANLEY

the gaze of those curious ayes a,bout her. When they were on the path, the young man drew her hand through his arm. He had- rammed the paper into an overcoat pocket. ‘I ought not to have told you in such a clumsy way,” he began. "Not that I had any Idea you would know anybody on the boat.” "Os course not.” Mary stood for a moment, her *iands over her eyes, the she moved* "I'm all right now —let us go OJi.”

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

He walked beside her soberly; he had noticed that she wore mourning, and wondered if this strange coincidence had brought about a second tragedy in her life. So many dreadful things were happening every day now; so many women wore black clothes, and tven*' about with hopeless, grief-stricken faces. Presently—“l should like to see the paper now, please.” she told him. They' were beneath a street lamp.

§||j| j 3~| y x j I*o TOUVE BEEN \ pl.'.^a I * SS @ BUT ” Klor HObD.

Spring Is Here

Pop Makes His Own Selection

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FRKCKbES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

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The miserable, drizzling rain was pouring down on them—lt dripped from the brim of Mary's bat. The young man unfolded the paper, and showed her the small stoppress paragraph. "It is the Multane, you see,” he said gravely. “Yes.” She answered him dazedly. Dolly had sailed on the Multane—Dolly and the man she had married so soon after her widowhood.

OUT OUR WAY—Bv WILLIAMS

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"It is feared that very few, if any, of the Multane's passengers are saved, as she sank in a few minutes.” The words danced mockingly before her. Oh, poor Dolly! Poor Dolly! The young man beside her spoke kindly, sympathetically. "Don’t bfrtoo sure. There may be a lot of people picked up that they know nothing about yet. Let me take you home; you’re wet through and cold. You’ll feel evr so much better when you’re warm and dry.”

FRIDAY 7 , APRIL 25. 1924

•—By MARTIN

—By TAYLOR

She told him the number of the flat and offered no demur when he accampanied her to the door. She was lonely and miserable, and frightened. She wanted a friend badly. and this young fellow was a gentleman, and sympathetic. “If you like, I will go down to the ship’s office and make inquiries,” he said diffidently. “They probably have other news by now. If yu will tell me the name of our friend?” # Continued iu Our Next Issue)