Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 255, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 February 1926 — Page 10

PAGE 10

A Complete Review of the Story of Sandy Up to Date JL irnTTnnT\T 4 m ±i .. GPIL’ I.* V - - - - -

For the benefit of Times readers who did not begin reading ‘‘Sandy” at the beginning, this review of what has happened in the story up to this time is presented. Head this review and then go on with the story, every day in The Times.

ANDY caught the old Spanish shawl about her and went J cautiously down the Mack steps. She was a happy thing— Sandy McNeil—as she ran through the fragrant garden. She reached out a hand. It was caught by a blond youth, who came from the shadow. “Thought you weren't going to make it, old dear.” He swept off his hat. gave Sandy a swift ardent kiss. They ran lightly, with suppressed merry chatter, to the gate. * As they walked they talked. “I’m going to miss you Sandy,” Timmy said. “When I'm married, Timmie? But I mean to keep my friends.” Timmy glanced down mockingly. "Mr. Ben Murillo, I suppose, is going to be very accommodating and allow his wife several night a week out.” \ Sandy frowned. She did not like to think of her engagement to Murillo. He was handsome, b\<t Sandy didn’t love him. Her familyhad engineered her engagement largely because Murillo had money. * It was late when Sandy returned to the house. Her mother was waiting for her. Mrs. McNeil was shocked at Sandy’s conduct, but the girl only laughed. * * * ANDY and Timmy had planned a picnic for the folI—., lowing Sunday- They and their friends went back into the mountains. Sandy and Timmy were the last to leave. Timmy tried to start the car. The engine -wouldn't turn over. The battery was down. Sandy waited in the car while Timmy went to a garage. It was getting dark. At 9 o’clock Timmy returned. “The garage closed at (i o'clock,” he said. “Oh, Timmy, didn’t you even phone?” “There isn't' a telephone in miles. I was afraid to leave you here any longer.” A storm was coming, up. It began to rain. Sandy insisted something must be done. Ben Murillo and his sister were to be? guests at dinner at her house that night. But it was too far to walk, and the rain was pouring harder. They took refuge in a deserted house. The storm continued. At 1 o'clock Sandy’s-father, who had been searching fqr them, found them,in the house. Her family insisted they could not understand her conduct.

HE day set for the wedding came and Sandy and Ben Mui rillo were married. Judith, Sandy's cousin, found her weeping in her room. There was dancing after the wed- . ding. Sandy slipped out into the garden, leading Timmy. “Kiss me, Timmy—oh, kiss me good-by.” He closed his arms about her. She clung to him. A wildness seized her. She thought: "O , grab my hands, Timmy. Run away with me. Why don't you?” And lie said, almost, sobbing: “You're crying, Sandy—Lord, you're not crying?” Timmy left and Judith found Sandy in the garden, but she did not suspect. Judith and Sandy went to Sandy’s room, where Sandy changed to her traveling costume. Sandy burst into tears. “I can’t go. I can’t go with him,” she said. “You can't go?” Judith repeated in awed slowness. "Shall I tell them?” * * * UT she did go—to a hotel in the mountains, and she saw her husband register them for the first time as “B. Murillo and wife.” Sandy longed to be alone. When Murillo’s back was turned she slipped through an open French window and her husband found her sitting on a stone bench on the lawn. A day or two later, Sandy met some of the boys from her home town. They invited her to a dinner and a dance afterward. She accepted happily. Her husband overheard her. “Why don’t you get dressed?” she asked him uneasily when they were in their room. “We are eating here tonight,” Murillo replied sternly. A maid brought their dinner to the room. Sandy was furious. “In the future, no invitation is accepted unless I accept it,” Murillo declared. “You heard me say we’d go. Why didn’t you refuse then?” Sandy asked. "Because it didn’t please me to.” Two months of their married life passed. They had traveled from one end of the State to the other, staying at all the best hotels. One night Sandy slipped from her bed. Her husband was sleeping. She searched through his pockets and took five ten-dollar bills from his wallet. She dressed hurriedly. She took the rings from her finger and left them on a table. She scribbled a note on a card. At 4 o’clock in the morning she boarded a train at the lonely station. • • • i_ .i URILLO turned Sandy’s card M in dumfeunded blankness, lit ,1 He stared at. it, hypnotized with astonishment. The card said: “Here are your gifts. I’m leaving. I’m not coming back. My parents can do nothing to change me. Don’t try to force me. I loathe you. I mean positively to die rather than be wife to you again.” A picture flashed into his mind. A picture of Sandy stepping from the train, her head tilted in that arrogant way of hers. Sandy saying with a shrug: "My husband? Yes, I’ve left him.” He would be made ridiculous, a laughing stock. He dressed hurridly and as he dressed he pulled shirts and collars from the bureau drawers. She would fling the wedding ring In his face? She was his wife. He laughed. She would be his. wife again.

mN a panic of nervous haste, Sandy stepped from the train. Two blocks from the rambling old white house, she stopped. “Why am.. H frightened?” she asked. “It’s because I haven’t slept. I am not really afraid.” on to the house. She carefully pulled open the screen. Her sister, Alice, and her mother were there. “Where’s Ben,” her mother asked. “He’s not here. He’s not coming. I've left him.” Her mother was startled. “What do you mean?” she asked. “You know you can’t put aside your marriage. For what trifling thing did you quarrel.” “It wasn’t a trifle,” Sandy said. “I’m not going to talk about it. It's done now. You can’t undo it. Nobody can/’ They stared at the open door. Murillo was ethere. He had come in noiselessly. Sandy turned on hint. “You got my note? 1 meant what I wrote then. I mean it doubly now.” He shrugged. “Don’t be top hard on her.” he said to Sandy’s mother. “She is tired.” * i * ~*l ANDV was firm. All the protests of her family were futile. ' Murillo -insisted on staying at the house. Her married sisters gave dinners. Sandy attended them to keep up appearances. She evaded Murillo. On Sunday Murillo insisted on taking the family riding. They drove past beautiful homes. “Here,” said Murillo, and it was the house he had remodeled. He took Sandy’s arm.' She didn’t say a word. “Sandy, tell me. ” lie said. “Don’t ytfu like it?” “I am not oming here. Not with 'you,” she said. That night Sandy and her mother had a long talk.

mHEN something happened that changed Sandy's defiance. She spent her time making clothes for a tiny baby. She had to go back to Murillo. She knew this now. In a few weeks Murillo's house was finished. She drove with him to ti.o house. He pushed open a doc;-—a bedroom filled with flowers. She found i-t hard to breathe. He said- “Yours, my dear. Shall I give you a key?” Sandy -continued indifferent. He treated her with sarcasm and resentment. In little ways he sought to break her. He gave her no money, but he expected her to ask for it—and she wouldn’t. Finally she told him. He was unnerved with emotion. She could feel his exultance. He laughed: “Everything is different now!” A day or two later he said: “I’ve asked my family to dinner Sunday. They are overjoyed.” She was stunned. “You don’t mean you have told them. You haven’t told them already?” “Why not?” “I asked you not to.” She walked out of tjie room, tears burning her eyes. •• * v PE insisted on having a house warming. Sandy objected, asking,him to put it off. A few days later he came home with engraved invitations. It didn’t really occur to him that she had opposed her will to his. Murillo made out a list of guests and passed It to Sandy. There were none of the friends of her girlhood Included. She added about ten of these. One day Sandy was shopping. She met the Arliss sisters. "You are coming to my housewarming, aren’t you?” fhey had received no invitations. Heinie had received none, nor had Timmy. Sandy walked homeward, her brain on fire. She said to Murillo: "Some of the invitations have been lost.” “Don't lose control of yourself, Sandy,” he said. “I know the reason—certainly.'' “You mean you didn’t send those invitations?” “There was really no reason for including those names.” he said. She looked at him, white and still as marble. Then she went upstairs. She opened her box of correspondence cards. She wrote notes to each of the friends she had wanted to Invite and explained that the invitations had been lost and that she wanted them to come. On the day of the housewarming Sandy was excited. She wondered what Murillo would say when her friends arrived. But not one of Sandy’s friends appeared. • • • S' ‘■■“TANDY took long walks alone. One day an automohile over* mi took her. Tlmipy was driving. He took off his hat. “Want a lift, Sandy?” She was tired and she stepped into his roadster. As they drove toward her home she asked why he and her other friends had not come to she party. Timmy explained that they had received her notes, but that Murillo had given them. to understand that they were not- wanted. Sandy was almost in tears when they reached the house. Timmy took her elbow to assist her in stepping from the car. Murillo was standing on the porch. Now he was coming toward them. He ground his fingers into her arm. “Did you have a nice walk?” he asked. “Yes, I went too far. Luckily, just as I was about to collapse Timmy drove by and picked me up.” “How very convenient! 'You have a habit of being rescued.” She walked quietly to the house, Muriljo behind her. "You’ve shamed and dishonored me,” he said when they were inside. You can stay two months and then you can go. I won’t have a person like you in the house.” Sandy was faint. Things went dark before her. That night her child was born —a hoy.'

After a while they brought the baby to her. She saw tears in the nurse’s eyes. She pleaded: she said eagerly: “It doesn’t move. It doesn’t cry. Is It alive?” “Yes —it’s alive.” "It’s not going to die? Do you mean it is not going to live?” “We hope it is going to live.” Sandy put her hands over her face. “It must live —it’s got to live.” But the baby died. * * * mT was three months since they had taken her home from the hospital. Murillo insisted that they must begin over again, but he still was repulsive to her. She could not forget what he had said about not wanting her. Time went on. She was so alone. No one but her mother and her sister and' her uncle Boh came to see her. After she had been home four mouths she suggested to Murillo that she would like to get out on the ocean. "Well, I'll see about it,” he said. “I can’t be gone for more than a month.” “I want to go alone,” she said. Murillo turned pale. “No, I don't think that would be advisable, Sandy.” Sandy appealed to her Uncle Bob. “I'll see that .you get away,” he said. He sent a doctor, who advised an ocean trip. * * • WEEK later Sandy And her mother were on a steamer * bound for .Honolulu. At last they arrived in Hawaii. She received letters from Murillo, but she never read them. She lay on the sands daily, dreaming. It became easy to laugh. She was happy. A tall figure came out of the surf. 'T thought you were going to ride the surf today,” he said. \j “I found it pleasanter to swim.” “Listen, will you dance with me tonight?” She shook her head. "No, I don’t know how to dance.” “What a rtierry lie! Then come for a ride tonight. You need the air.” “Maybe—l don't know —” When she returned to the hotel

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By MARTIN

'i\' oCA'i . S'JtrfY I\<HT IN THY MOOSE I ! WHY, MY WORD, 808 -o \ f GOiMS —' T HrXT c - AoLT IAVcY Ruß - I f THOUGHT YOU HftD <3ON£ ~YOO Yy//V%s' > HASN'T CfcVoA b B 1f ?8 DON'T MBAN TOO ARE IN BED f ’in M I EIT O CO i 2 K] El \ NYULR JHfc THOU6HT \0 UMt , STtVJfc -STJL Wffl W i'fm -1 SflPl TO SEE \T- / L 'TF &4' j I ''' /'YOU DON'T KNOW BOW DEEPLY TH\S TOUCHES NO T 60 IN TO BED-LOOTS TLATIN' ME .808-TOS'Lt YOU TURNING OUER A NEW VJH? I'M GPTTIMfi DO LEAY TW\BWA\-NOW \E YOO VdOOVD ONLY DO UNO UV* TH\S £.LERY N\6HT . 60 TO BEO

■RiGHT Ml STEP'' >• Tv-AERE-'S T-A \ f 1 TjikivY vajE oTTA \ SHOE. BL \ PoT TH kM\ i ujmiswers* J okjootside! loovys 1 ALL TH I kTikiDA FOOU^M VA VA/AKIMA / I vamEjvYERS <£ A SEAT. / \ A BARBEP/ A BE. NEXT J / li'ijil jPim.Uaws * MADE NA&tVI - t i.h 6 >926 ev ete stnvict. inc . Vi - - 11 - ■ - ■ n ■ ■'

THU INDIANAFOLIS TIMES

By ELENORE MEIIERIN, Author of “Chickie.”

her mother said: “We’ll soon be leaving.” “Leaving! What makes you say that?” “Ben things we should be ready to leave. He asked you about it, didn’t he, in his last letter?” Sandy’s blood ran through her body, but she didn’t answer. She went out of the hotel and went for a ride with Ramon Worth. After he brought her back to the h&tel she sat on the veranda. • * * j 'n DAY or two after this he was lA. I waikin £ w ’ th her tiown the |j£jg avenue. They were caught In a shower. She pulled her sweater up quickly. Letters dropped from its pocket. He stopped to pick them up, brushing off the water. They were unopened. They were the same letters she had received a week ago, the envelopes twisted. Murillo’s name was written plainly in the corner. She knew that he saw this —that he remembered. Her breath caught painfully. lie pretended to notice nothing. As she came into the lobby late in the afternoon, Mrs. McNeil was waiting. Her placid face was struck with annoyance. She said: “Sarrdy—how is this? “Why didn't you tell me?” She put a telegram in Sandy’s hands. It was from Murillo. • * • *** The foregoing was a review of the first twenty-seven chapters of Sandy. Now go on with the twenty-eighth chapter. CHAPTER XXVIII S<* —*1 ANDY read the cablegram—read it twice. She looked at her mother and roared — crazy, heedless laughter. It ripped over her in gales. She sat in the bed, holding the message before her, shaking with mirth. Murillo’s cablegram sent from San Francisco said: “Matsonia arrived. Your absence inexplicable. Cable immediately.” Mrs. McNei took the paper from Sandy. Her large, flaccid cheeks quivered with anxiety. "What Is the matter? What Is funny about this’’ “We’re here! Funny! Ha! ha! ha! He’ expected us. We didn't air ve!

OUT OUR WAY—By U ILLdAMt?

Picture him! Ye gods!” The tears streamed down her cheeks. She laughed and laughed. Her mother tapped her foot. “Sandy! What, have you done? Did he tell you to get passage and you ignored him? You said nothing to me of it.” . * * * S l '” 1 ANDY got up and walked about the room, swinging her i___J shoulders with abandoned hilarity. “I don’t know how it .happened. But it did —that’s the important thing. He may have said somethihg. I’m not a very careful letter reader —” She turned her back, quietly tore the envelopes off Murillo’s letters. She knew exactly what happened. And it was there. He had written very completely. He had reserved passage for them. Ilis orders were in those unopened letters. ( What a magnificent joke! Mrs. McNeil stroked her soft double chin.. She was sick with nervousness. Sandy said breezily: “‘Oh, it's no calamity, Isabella. He can wait a few more weeks. I’ll cable that I mislaid his letter before I read it or that I forgot to open it.” “You'll do nothing of the kind. You’ll say the letter was lost in the mails and we never received It. How can you treat your husband in this brazen, flippant manner?” "After all, mother, what is it that makes a man your husband? Did you ever stop to consider this? Do you think the words that some third party said over us made us man and wife? All the ceremony on the earth can’t join together what the spirit separates. I've, discontinued marriage with Ben Murillo.” Mrs. McNeil’s large, gentle eyes, filled: "Nothing will discontinue your marriage, Sandy, except death.” “I tell you it’s discontinued already! I —the real ME —was never Joined to hint. Can you name any reason why lie should have a perpetual claim?” “Your vows.” * * • S r ""”~| \NDY jerked her head impatiently. She knew she was l__ only bewildering her mother. She wanted to stop. Yet she went on talking: “Oh, Isabella, don’t just repeat all that tush! Tell me why it’s right or beautiful for two people to make each other miserable

for life? Why do you think it is pleasing to God that I, at 20, be doomed to lifelong sordid unhappiness? You'd shudder before you’d hand me a dose of poison, wouldn’t you? But that would be a clean thing to do, for it would only kill the body. You want me to have my spirit slowly beaten to death. You think IT! be a credit to the Creator of sun and stars and gladness if I go around in hangdog submission, ushamed to look a decent person in the face!” She glanced at her -mother, winced, stooped down and wiped the hot, stained cheeks; kissed the ample forehead where the hair was damp and thin: “Don't cry about it, darling. Can't I even talk—” But Sandy went down lightly enough—the mirth within her unchecked. She cabled to Murillo, taking a wicked delight in spreading the words. He wished* to know why they hadn't arrived. Certainly she would satisfy him. Let him pay to learn. He’d been stingy enough with her —rubbing in time and agair) that SSO she stole. He compelled her to ask for her barest needs. She said: “Sorry you were disappointed. Knew nothing of any reservatiotis. Your letter probably overlooked. Prefer to remain longer. Sandy.” This mood continued as if her disregard of him had suddenly eliminated him from her life. She felt free and happy. Underneath, thought: "I’ll have another month —T'll drag it out at least that long. There’s no way he can get us back sooner.” * * • Sr" lIE went swimming that evening—riding on the waves. The warm surf dashing against her throat filled her with delight. She rolled over, burying herself in the waters. She thought with exuberant, defiant joy: “I’m glad! He can’t stop it! I’m ME! He can’t change it.!” And It now seemed preposterous that any one should even suppose she belonged to Ben Murillo. Why should he come between her, for instance, and that sunset sky? Why should the thought of him prevent her from looking up and laughing—from wishing to sing, to drive with pleasant people? She was a free, human being. What right had another to force her

I diamonds, \ \<* Lrr-fo EGAD! LEA n\E TELL U one DIAK4OKiD&| re'g on-BALANCED 1 mob -iYUg>, —i s/e bee.k\ p MAnavAC-rbwEPtodTvV fttonpE * • OME 0E PR.WMLEC3ED ES>V<IhAQ -'TR.A'DE., 'jOMY'dEGG \ ; EEVJ -To c?Ee gPARKLEG EOQ -WEiQ AEEMR., Aki’ ’ QUICK-£\LVER on l <SEK\ VIOUEP NOT BE. OU ■OV K\PkM<5V*T £>ViU 1 • BACK QT OEM, PLACEjn-TiAE COLLEC-TioU .= __ l IE Errvteß of SOU viiGH SOA Ssw* < ( -t* Time -M ra To BUS \T vIELL, \T S i ) r#? ivjA CAki BE BOU6HT FO\J ’ A PEURIUM .•/ i-if) t meg beudujthe " J LJ ? * cm>i nm mwei we. y

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

S-SUBYBAfTnoM C vj/v *7° l \ AYSUBTBACYICN f- S VOO ABAED 1 V 1 Ms J f \ " -1 11 TX y- WIMTh soerrEAcTioN?? \ yroc petes sake" j Hi aebbe so, but • / rim VNAATCAAiTWAY / \ YOU so 7t> SCAiOOL AAi J AIM’Y A \ *U', jr BE?A*YWIM<S < JSfLSSS* ‘"“S ***-'' X"— , r LIKE SEO<SJ?APAY / \ ON IS . \ ' —t >—'' j/j . U 2 ? AWV/ POOL OO6MrA f °j 1 ——i KAJOO) VMMAY ) ( — X y% , _ I i ' 1 V /pytuw v St* twvict. ISC. VJ t-x¥

to resign her whole life to his satisfactions? It was not only infamous. It was impossible. • • AMON WORTH asked her to go to the dance with him. U—J She went. They strolled out in the gardens. He wus a happy, charming fellow, with such a fund of talk. He thought her extremely beautiful and said so. it made her blithe to be flattered now. She said, Insolently: “You’re not such a bad looking rake ypurself, though your chin is too short and I wouldn't have your lips qnde so full.” . jested merrily about that. He danced with grace. She felt as buoyant and carefree as in the days before her marriage. They found a bejpeh. Between the palms glimpses of the water shone. He regarded her quizzically: “Why did you come to the dance tonight, Sandy?” “I felt like it.” “Do you always do as you feel?” “Mostly—yes—” “You wanted to come the other night—lots of other nights,- but you didn’t. . .” She frowned. He went on casuallv, not removing his glance from her profile: “I forgot to tell you. A friend of yours, Jack Horace, is down here. Arrived last week. Nice chap—went to school ( with you, didn't he?” Sandy said quietly: “Yes.” She thought: “Now ho knows all about me. Everything.” Probably Jack ( had even told that she had run away on her honey- % moon. Everyone in Santa Barbara knew that. Had he told her of the baby and that it was dead? * • • S" “ ANDY looked out to the water, all her happiness vnnlshed. Ramon's hand stole over hers. She tried to laugh. “I suppose he told you nine or seven things about me?” “I don't need anyone to tell me about you. Sandy. I can see ail I want.” “Yes! And for summer friendships one doesn’t need, to go very deep. Besides, I’ll soon be leaving—so it doesn't matter.” “You’re • going back? I thought you were to stay Indefinitely." “Didn’t Jack say that?”

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

EEB. _ i.y2l>

lie colored: "Yes.” lie was a little ushamed. lint lie noticed the whiteness of her lips, the defiant of her head. She had mn onsolouslw raised It, the ehadowed eyes liis eyes exulted in tier beauty. Her defiance made Inin reckless. A young, beautiful gill like this married to a mean fellow ihal she didn’t love and who was robbing her of happiness and who now tried to make 'her 'return to him. He guessed tills was the. unpleasant news she bad received. She had grown desperate with the ibought of return.... Sundy bit her Ups together. He said: “Are you angry because 1 met a friend of yours?” She looked at him coldly. “No. But I’m not stupid. T know what a gossip Jack Horace Is." "You mean you think lu* talked about you?” "I know lie did!” “Listen, Sandy—he talked—yesbut not to me. 1 merely chanced to hear it. Perhaps 1 shouldn’t have listened, 1 couldn’t help It. 1 wanted to hear. I wus dying to know abotu yqu. I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since I met you. I’ve thought of you incessantly. Tliere’s no harm In that, is there? llow could I help It? You’ve no idea how taunting you are! You can’t know how It made me feel when 1 suw you rushing down to the water the way you did that night—Sandy—don’t turn your head away—” But she became excited and stood up—. “Oh, it’s nothing. Ramon. I just don’t want you to ho Interested in me—l don’t want it." M Ho took her hands and drew heM hack to the bench. "You can’t ston it, Sandy. How do you think you can stop it?” (To Be Continued) ARTICLES IN SEWER ■Walter Monroe, assistant etreet superintendent, Ims tho material to start n second-hand store. A force of men under his direction cleaned the sewer at Illinois and Ohio Sts. today and found two rings, four cartridges, a brooch, tie pin and a Junk peddler s license. The crossword puzzle la on Page 13 today.