Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 173, Indianapolis, Marion County, 20 November 1925 — Page 28

28

TO ANN A if X 11 ix

„ Beautiful JOANNA MANNERS, dors No. 27, is summoned by HARKNESS. the buyer, to appear before her employer Mr. Gray don. who delivers an overwhelming message Someone whose Identity she is not to know has placed $1,000,000 on deposit at the Metropolitan Bank subject to her personal check. Graydon convinces her there are no obligations and has his chauffeur take her to the banker, Andrew Eggleston. Graydon's old friend. That evening when Joanna hopes to talk confidentially with JOHN WITMORE. her finance, ehe finds also the eloquent and wealthy FRANCIS BRANDON. her banker's nephew, waiting in the drawing-room. Brandon departs, after being assured of a later engagement. Joanna promises to share her fortune with John, but he will not believe her story and departs with coldness. Brandon introduces her to YVONNE COUTANT famous society divorcee, whose partner. Roddy Kenilworth, rich romantic idler, admits he will try his hand for Joanna. He knows Brandon is the one thing Yvonne desires that siuhasn’t got. , „„„ Joanna learns from her chum. GEOR GIE. that John is willing to apologize since speaking with Eggleston. She sends a note. „ _ Joanna goes to live with Yvonne, where she meets MRS. DORIS MARKS, a MR. PENDLETON and LORD TEDDY DORMINSTER who loses uo time in courting Joanna Yvonne plans a party so Joanna will meet the elite. By 11. L. Oates CHAPTER XVI Joanna’s Debut m T is only in the great capitals of the world that one may witness or participate in a garnering such as Yvonne Coutant delighted occasionally to preside-ovei in her town house off the Avenue. They are not uncommon In Paris where a Prince of India may at any time transform a miniature palace In the Bois into an exotic fairyland for a wild, barbaric fete. They were brilliant punctuations in the Bohemian calendar of old Vienna, and in London, occasionally, a regnant beauty, perhaps a mannequin newly married to a duke, or a young duchess divorced from one, will celebrate by turning one night into enough extravagance to keep Mayfair gossiping for a month. In America they are rarely* accomplished. The demimondaine of Paris and the diplomat from London are not accustomed to ignoring the barrier between them when occasion arises. It is an extraordinary hostess, in America, who can successfully bring together all grades of society, not rich and poor, so much, as the good and the not so good. Yvonne Coutant was one of these. She had no scruples when she opened her house, as to who came | into it. She demanded only beauty, external grace, and a willingness to be an appropriate picture for the shining, golden frame she provided. “One simply cannot afford not to be In on one of Yvonne’s affairs,” Mrs. Brownley-Smith, of the Polo crowd, repeatedly said. “One's husband is sure to be there, and so his favorite of the moment. I always go in order to discover who Tom’s loving now. It’s the only way I have of checking up on the fluctuations of his taste.” Yvonne’s own latest former husband, Alfred Coutant, the novelist, never missed her entertainments. “I get at least four chapters from every one of them,” he would explain. “She’s awfully good to let me come—sort of pally like, you know.” So it was that an interesting company moved about among the roses and lillies and daffodils that filled every corner of the spacious house with fragrant baskets of flaming carnations relieving the paleness of the throats of women. And so it was that Joanna stood, arms outstretched that she might realize the line and symmetry of them, before the long mirror In her dressing room, upstairs. The slim body of her was vibrant with memories of the day and eagerness for the night. - In hei eyes were all the ecstacies. Strewn around her were the things from the shops—more gorgeous things from more gorgeous shops than she, alone, ever could have discovered. It was from them she had made her choice —or Yvonne had made ii for 1 jr—and she stood, before the glass a soft, mellow vision of lace and chiffons fashioned by deft fingers and cunning brains to emphasize that beauty of girlhood that only a sculptor could display more alluringly or frankly. On the dressing table before her were spread the souvenirs of an hour with Yvonne in the great Jewelry store; wristlets of diamonds, rubies and sapphires; necklets of platinum chains, as thin as the sheer ness of lingerie, with shining gems In their delicate pendants. From all of these Yvonne had chosen a single ornament, a rope of shimmering pearls that wound once around the slender, partly poised neck. “Miss Twenty-Seven of the Silks” had completed her transition and awaited her summons into the magic world below —the magic world where money bought a smile or a kiss bought pearls like hers. * * * HILE Joanna stood before her \U mirror, Andrew Eggleston sat JLU at the long, carved table in the somber-toned library of his house —which was not off the avenue, but still on it, stubborn ghost of the days when the avenue was jealous of its exclusive rank. Joanna’s eyes caressed the loveliness her mirror reflected; a loveliness that epitomized, as in alabaster dqst, all the pretenses of her kind. Her toes tingled with the promise of adventures. Dimples danced their provocation about her mouth. Through the filmy web of chiffons youthful limfcillnes mocked at the cunningness of the courtiere’s mask for them; gold brown hair, hugged close to the restless head, delicately arched eyebrows shaped as only a painter could conceive them —lips and arms and bare shoulders made a marvelous ensemble of enticement. Andrew Eggleston, In the heavy library room, also eyed a vision—also the figure of a girl, and of Joanna’s age—but of a long time ago. The girl the banker watched looked down at him from a canvas, held in its massive frame over the great fireplace. There was no danc ing in her eyes, but a wistfulness that seemed to reach out to the man who gazed like a quavering beam of mellow radiance. The lips were blood red and full, and shaped for a kiss, but they were not scarlet, nor voluptuous. They were as if there was no such a thing as a lipstick. The hair was brown, shimmering, as Joanna’s, but it was not bobbed —but piled in glorious opulence. The banker, who would have been young when this girl in the gold frame was young, passed his hand across his brow, to break a spell

with Which the girl in the painting encompassed him. Then his attention fell to bits of paper spread before him like the jewels on Joanna's dressing table. One by one he picked them up and read them—read the cancelled checks which signified the purchases Joanna had made that day, checks that had been hurriedly cashed so the girl might take her purchases away with her. They totaled thousands, many thousands At the jewelry store alone Joanna had spent more than a tenth of her million dollars. It was all totaled In the cancelled checks. “The play begins! It is to be a comedy, after all!” It was said quietly, evenly, but there was just a nuance in the tone that might have been expressed exultation. The speaker stood behind the banker, a figure in faultless evening clothes, silk hatted, white gloved. About his lips played the wraith of a smile—a cynical smile. In his eyes there was amusement. Just at thatymoment an ancient butler appeared at the library door and spoke: “Your car has arrived, Mr. Brandon.” Eggleston started. “You will be seeing her, tonight, then?" he asked calmly. “Yes. She will be plunged into the abyss tonight, by her new friend, Yvonne Coutant. She will swim like a sinuous mermaid through the sordid sense of half a score of old men whose lips she'll moisten with the sight of her, and half a hundred young men who' will make wagers as to which will be first to break her. The end is in sight tonight.” Eggleston did not reply for a moment. He raised his glance, again to the girl In the painting Then he said, heavily:_ “Still, I’d like to see her here, in this room. Arrange, someway, to bring her tomorrow. Brandon bowed sli. 'y, and went out of the room and i sis car, which waited at the curb. He- gave his order briefly: “To Miss Coutant’s.” * * * (' 'TjEANIYKILE, Joanna, before {V|l her mirror, waited to be sum L-..J moned to the old men, and the young men, and their young women and old, downstairs. Yvonne appeared in the doorway. The younger girl gave a little gasp when she saw her. In contrast to the soft white tones of Joanna’s gown, Yvonne’s was a shining black velvet that clung to the curve of her figure like a sheath, giving her vulcanite hair its complement. Her shoulders and uncovered back shone boldly and glistening white. “You will be something of a sensation tonight, my dear!” the older woman exclaimed, when Joanna had walked across the room, and haci whirled and stood still for her inspections. Joanna was much too happy to reply. Yvonne’s appearance among her guests was the signal for dancing to begin—also for the breaking down of all barriers built by formalities. Women who had gathered in stiff little groups to discuss other women or the escapades of other women wore away to their first dance and their first drink and the first round of their preferred flirtations. The big drawing room had been made Into a dancing room. In t*he winter garden the only lights were flickering lanterns hidden among the foliage. Great palms made screens across corners of the drawing and sitting rooms, and In the hallways. "Yvonne,” said Mrs. BrownleySmith, “knows that two people never have to fumble for conversation when they’re hidden behind palms.” As Yvonne moved through her rooms, with a word here and a nod there, her eyes sought a single face. When she failed to find it she spoke to the butler, who stood at the post in the reception hall. The matt gave her the information she sought. “Mr. Brandon just arrived, Madame.” She went at once, stopping only for a subtle challenge to a judge who, that day had delivered’from his bench, a heavily homily upon the frailty of a modern mother, to a door that led off from the reception hall into a tiny room which, after the Continental fashion, she called a morning room, reserved for her own exclusive use. -Brandon stood by a cabinet with a siphon and glass in his hands. lie turned to greet her. * * * S p “"““1 HE went directly up to him. He gave her an intimate u__] glance, that not only appraised her/ but estimated every artifice of her. For an instant she swayed toward him, yielding, expectant. But she read in his face that he would not take her in h*s arms. She was immediately selfpossessed. Gaily she fluttered her fingers across her own lips and then touched them, lightly, to his. “Am I pleasing .to my lord?” she de-

Puzzle a Day |

jr— START Mickey Mcßain is only 6, but he is already the swimming champion of his class. Every day, after he comes out of the water, Mickey runs over every white tile in this courtyard. Although he never touches a black tile he always finishes at his dressing room. What is the shortest path Mickey can follow? Last puzzle answer: The first bale of rags found in the store room of the Bureau of Printing and Engi-jiving weighed 169 pounds, the second weighed 100 pounds. The weights fulfill the conditions of the puzzle for 169 minus 100 equals 69; IG9 equals 13 times 13; }OO equals 10 times 10; 13 minus 10 equals 3.

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,manded, dropping him a mock curtsey. “That’s an idle pretense, that question,” he replied. “What you really want to know is, are you tempting?” "A woman never asks that,”- she returned. "She needs no help to satisfy any such curiosity.” “I fancy that point might be argued,” he observed, “but we will compromise. You are very beautiful, which pleases me, and very alluring, which gratifies you. What more shall either of us desire?” Some quick reply, perhaps a reminder of some sort, hovered at her Ups, but died unspoken. “Nothing else,” she said. “And thank you. If I have done my own attractions justice, perhaps you will agree that I have done even more —that I have made two women beautiful, tonight, for your satisfaction.” “You mean the girl, of course. But why hre you • challenging me—with her?” She looked up at him, steadily. She spoke softly. There was no trace of bitterness, or. even accusation, In her tone, but there was something feline in It. “1 believe you are going to tear tins girl to pieces, if you can. Whether it is because you do not approve the bizarre method someone has used to lift her up, and you merely want to pull her down. I don’t know. I think there is something stronger than that in your mind. But I am of the opinion, my dear that it won’t he so easy!” When she paused, she turned away from him slightly. There was a\tinge of color in her pale cheeks. “You are absurd,” Brandon said evenly. “And, I think, just a bit piqued. It Is a "delightful mood. If one of us should make the girl unhappy. I fancy it is more likely to be you than I." She gave him a bright smile. The color had gone from her cheeks, and she was taunting again. “Novi you are accusing me of the possibility of jealousy. I’m never jealous, my friend. Not, even, of you. I served you willingly in luring her into my keeping. Toddy Dormlnster and Roddy Kenilworth already are devoted to her. Teddy has assured me he’s willing to trade all his married women, in one grand bunch, for her. And Roddy declares that she is more refreshing than champagne. So you must admit I’m generous —two of my devotees already are at her feet. And you are hovering about them. I shall—” She paused. For some reason she decided, suddenly, to both light a cigaret and point toward the cabinet where glasses and bottles were. “A bit of wine, please,” she commanded. When he had brought her glass he said: “Y’ou were about to say something interesting. Brinish it.” “I was about to add that probably I shall learn some things I really want to know, because of Joanna, but they will be interesting. Come. It is time she made her entrance. Everybody has had just enough to drink to fully appreciate her.”

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

EOGETHER they passed into the reception foyer. Through the tvide flung doors, in which palms were banked, strains of dance music floated down from an orchestra hidden on a miniature balcony that crowned one end of the high ceiling room reaching off on either side from the upper landing of a broad, handsome stairway that sloped down majestically Into the drawing room Itself. ,‘A woman always looks her best when she is descending a stairway,” was one of Yvonne’s pet assertions. She had had this one especially built into her house. At the fringe of the dancing crowd in the larger room Dormlnster and Roddy Kenilworth talked together, both men searching the throng of guests for their hostess. Lord Teddy spied her, and Brandon, Immediately. Both asked for Joanna when they had hurried to pay their compliments. "A little patience,” Yvonne remonstrated. And she admonished them: “There must be no stealing her away for selfish confidences. I want her to know- everyone, tonight.” Brandon touched her arm. “Here is someone who will make his own rules, perhaps, about an hour alone with her,” he said, Indicating a young man, who had just delivered his hat and coat to the doorman and who. evidently a stranger in a strange house, seemed not to know jvhat to do with himself. Yvonne did not know the newcomer. and looked at him curiously. Like the other men, he was in evening clothes, but in his manner was that intangible something which betrays the one whose full dress is only an occasional ceremony. Always quick with her appraisals Yvonne de cided in a flash that the stranger would not be one, if he were cor nered, with whom a woman might safely play-. She was amused with herself, however, for admitting such an idle reflection, and puzzled by it. Brandon, who had greeted the other, brought him to her for presentation. “Mr. Wilmore,” he said. “You have heard me, and, no doubt, Miss Manners speak of him.” Yvonne, with characteristic im pulse, gave him both her hands, a gesture which brought a flush into his face. Her voice and smile were warm. “This would be John,” she said. “You see I have only heard Joanna call you that. She has been very eager for your coming. She Is just about to make her first appearance." John plainly was ill at ease. He had expected Joanna to be waiting for him, and for him alcne. He was not prepared for this sort of introduction into her new surroundings. Brandon chatted with him easily, and brought up Kenilworth and Dormlnster. “They have both begun to be amusing to Miss Manners,”

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Brandon explained. “So far, we aro her main circle of dependants.” The music that came down from the balcony suddenly died away, leaving a confusion of voices that ends a dance. Already women who shouldn’t drink champagne and mei, who insisted that they do. were giv ing hints of the effects of it. 'Tut. as unexpectedly ns the music hac. subsided, there was a general com motion, and then a hush. The four men, John among them, stepped through the palm flanked doorway and into the larger room. Yvonne completely beautiful, a striking figure in the shimmer of her black and the sparkle of the diamonds at her throat, stood a few steps up on the stairway. Her voice, silver tin kling in it, floated over the assemblage—the assemblage of those who were good and not *so good: “My friends,” she called to them, "I am in a daring inood tonight. Just how, and why, some of you will determine, quickly. 1 am about to present to you something that 13 very fragile, and new, and fresh, and something eager to be shap*d into the best fashions of the day. It is just a girl whom I have taken very close to me and who thinks she should be like me. Some of you will disagree with her. and, perhaps, plan to make her different. Others will have ideas of their own. I commend her, to all of you—and am curious to know whether it Shall be you, or her, who profits most.” She raised her jeweled hand, while the murmur of wondering voices grew and gave a signal. (Copyright. 1923—H. L. Gates.) (To Be Continued)

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