Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 313, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 May 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

SANDY

THB STORY SO FAR SANDY McNEIL. In lovo with life, marrle* BEN MURILLO, a rich Italian, to please licr impoverished family. Tyranny by Murillo and frequent quarrels follow. A son dies at birth. 808 McNEIL, her uncle, aids in plans t for Sandy and her mother to take a trip to Honolulu. There she moots RAMON WORTH, who save her life in the surf. On the same steamer home he declares his love. Murillo says he will never release her. JUDITH MOORE, a cousin, tells Sandy love is everything. Murillo overtakes her as she goes for a tryst with Ramon. She leaves his house and accepts the kindly attentions of Ramon, whose home she shares. She goes home when she learns her mother is very ill. Sandy's mother dies and Sandy (toes to live with her cousin. Judith, utter parting with Ramon DOUGLAS KEITH, tho man whom Judith loves, introduces his friend. HAL HUME to Judith. He. himself, falls in love with Sandy who reclproocates Ids affection. This leaves Judith heartbroken. Sandy tells Douglas about Ramon. She receives word from her uncle that he has started suit for divorce and hopes she will have her freedom within a year. GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER I.XXXVI lie looked nftor Judith lingeringly -Judith going up the hill with a milk bottle tucked under her arm. Fine way to spend New Year's Eve! She could have come! It wouldn’t have hurt her to come— She reached the high flight of steps. The door closed on her. Going Into make the eggnog—. He frowned impatiently. She could have come! Didn’t need to go running up the hill like that. He went on reluctantly, filled with regret and a Queer sense of loneliness. Mean to go off and leave Jude behind. Why hadn’t he thought of asking her sooner? Ho remembered last year all those years. Now she wouldn't think he’d forgotten her—forgotten all those dear, happy times—

As he got Into the car he suddenly remembered Judith’s eyes—deep violet stars and odd way she said, looking off to the sky: “Why, there’s nothing to tell. Doug. What should there bo to tell?” Saying this and holding him with re warm, teartilled eyes— He Idled with the gears. Why did Judith look so? And her hands trembling. Was she hurt to be left alone? No —Judith was never hurt —too much humor —too much pride. She was just queer—different from others. She could cry any old time at a cloud drifting through a tree top; a bird singing, or a ship going down the horizon. The llttlest things affected her so deeply. That's what made her such a kick. You never knew how site would react; never got tired oi Jude. A sudden image of her in one of those inexplicable moods filed with startling poignancy to his mind. East year just at midnight they were dancing together. At the stroke of twelve the light flashed out. He swept her gayiy close, stooped for a quick, happy kiss —unexpectedly flushed at the soft sweetness of Judith's lips—unexpectedly stirred bythe white, breathless quiet of herand that strange, half prayer, half smile flint passed like a light over Judith’s face. As though a kiss were something epochal—hashed as before a vision or a holy miracle— This image of Judith came to him now disturbingly. He put it aside, saying several times: "Dunk—oh, bunk.” Judith thought the world of him—of course. And he didn’t know anything he wouldn't do for Jude—but the idea of supposing it went any deeper with her— But the Image of her with that stilled. Joyous look returned again and again. It brought other Images. Once they talked of marriage, he said he was in no hurry because he'd liavo to give her up. He asked: "Ever think of that, Jude? How'd you like it? Wouldn't you care?" Her hands reached for Ills. She turned her face upward with a soft, piercing laugh: eyes all violet with fire. “Would I care, Doug? I’ll care! Holy smoke, you bet I’ll care!” He now wished savagely that Judith was along. Queer that she and Sandy had parted. Pretty darn queer, after the trouble of fixing up the room. He’d find out about it—a shame if .anything had happened— For a fragile moment a suspicion that Sandy might have done something—might have hurt Judith, took spark in his thought; made him hotly uncomfortable.... But this spark died the instant he saw her. All in white, running down the stairs. Sandy looked like an angel In white, that band of brilliants in her hair. / He laughed and caught her soft, appealing hands, thrilled by the fer-

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by ELENORE MEHERIN, Author of “CHICK IE”

vor of her lips; her singing: “Happy New Year, Doug—oh, happy, happy year!” * • • Almost, midnight. They sat at the table. An eggnog was served. Abruptly and sadly this recalled Judith running up the hill, the milk bottle In her hands. Then he told Sandy about the meeting and that he had asked Judith along. But she ■wouldn’t come, and how strange this seemed if It was true they hadn't quarreled. Bright stains like red petals bloomed on either of Sandy's cheeks. “Because if you left just because they’re crowded, they were crowded just the same months ago.” “What did Judith say?” “That you wanted to go?” “I had to go!” Then feverishly: "You see, my aunt Is against divorce, just as my father is. She would still think I had no right—no right to think of you, Dauglos.” “Judith wouldn’t think this?” “No—Judith wouldn’t ” And for the first time the whole evening Sandy’s spirits fell. She thought with a fitter of vague despair: “If he saw Judith take that picture pt his the way she did it away—if he saw that look in Judith's sac Lord, if he guessed that Judith loved him!

Then they rode out to the Marina. It was raining—a fine, gray mist that*whirled in great, silvery wheels over the waters. Sandy thought of the night of the housewarming, when all the guests were gone and she had stolen to the big room on the third floor. How utterly alone she had felt watching that pale finger of light trace across the sky. And as she stood there so. suddenly and shyly like the opening of petals, like the flutter of a song, a faint stir touched along her nerves. Arresting, delicate, unique—the stir of life ... notes of music dropping on her heart. Then she was no longer alone. Then she was filled with this warm, yearning sweetness. Even as now. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep, unconscious sigh. This happiness would not pass. This happiness was hers. She felt suddenly an imperious need of assurance. She reached one soft hand upward and laid it against his cheek. "Douglas, if the noblest and sweetest woman in the world came and said she. loved you, would you still think of me?” “The sweetest and dearest has said it.” “But if someone better?" And now both hands touched his face, held it while her eyes searched and pleaded: “If someone better? Oh, somebody fine like Jude?” Her lips trembled. Then her eyes closed, feeling the sweep ‘of hie arms, the laugh of his lips against her own: “If all the women in the world—if the five hundred wives of Solomon came—” “It would still be I, Doug? TANARUS, first? You see I've always been so near to happiness and always just missed it—” He saws'*the tears trembling on Imr lashes—saw the whiteness of her lips. He said between a laugh and a cry: “You poor little kid! But you won’t miss it this time. I’ll make up to you for all that, Sandy —for every last bit of It—” “I* wish you’d say that ten thousand times, Dougals. You don't love me as much as I love you. You couldn't. No one in tho world loves as I love you!”

And that night, too, Sandy stood at tho window, her eyes filling because of all that music in her heart. "I can't help it.” she murmured: “I can't help it! It’s mine! It's ours!” She found it so easy to laugh—easier still to cry. They went on seeing each other every day—growing nearer—growing happier until the very summit of joy seemed theirs.” In the end of January Rob McNeil sent a wire to Sandy; “Come down this week-end, will you? Unlooked for complication. Don’t get too alarmed. Fear counter charges.” Saturday Sandy was back in Santa Barbara. She stood in the office of Bob McNeil. Bob handed her a letter: “Sec here little kid—don't, get so white. lie says ho has the goods on you. I know it's a lie. But read this—” Standing there with those burning words leaping from the pages,'Sandy felt Hie desolation that is death. (To Be Continued)

HERESY EVIDENCE GIVEN Promise of a comprehensive investigation into charges made by the National League for the Betterment of the Public School in connection with heretical teachings in Indianapolis schools was given league officials by Superintendent of Schools E. U. Graff at a conference. Graff asked officials for evidence collected In the league investigation. Graff accepted the evidence and names of teachers and schools in which affidavits, held by the league, state heresy Is being taught.

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OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

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WO w: SA YS BRITON, IN SPEED Y AMERICA Author Has National Pride and He’s Doing His Best to Keep Up, but ‘Whew’ Again.

Editor’s Note: Gilbert Frankau, British autlur of the novel "Masterson. is discovering America from New York to Hollywood. In the following article, the second Frankau has written since his arrival in j the United States, he .expresses afctonishj meat at the fast pace of American life. By Gilbert Frankau | CHICAGO, May 3.—Except when j t write fiction, which I do very i slowly, trying to make each word paint Its picture or tell its story, I am a fairly quick worker. People in my own country call me quite a live wire, and it has even been suggested that if I go on writing novels, writing articles, editing a film news reel, making political speeches, to say nothing of dancing, driving racing cars, playing semi-professional tennis and riding to hounds, I shall die a very early and extremely unpleasant death from exhaustion. How then am I to come alive through this hustling America, where I have to do at least three times as much work as I ever coi y templated at home? No Bluff The .question 1 admit is already beginning to bother me. I had heard a good deni about the American hustler befoie I came over; but

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

frankly I never believed a word of it. I regarded the whole thing as a bluff. “Nobody can work as hard as they pretend they do," was what I told myself. Now, however, after just five weeks over here, I know better. The pace ratio of your country to mine is—l should say—about three to one Stepping on the gas seems to be your national pastime. You go at everything—and you go at it like blazes. One of my own days, for instance, may contain five interviews, three public speeches, an article for my home newspapers, a rough idea for a short story, a factory inspection, two free meals, four hundred new acquaintances, an attempt to learn the Charleston, an escape from a vamp, and. If I am very lucky, a dose of synthetic gin which finds me very resolute for stricter enforcement of the Eighteenth Amendment next morning. His National Pride. Still, 1 Jim carrying on. My national pride as a Britisher is aroused. If I cannot beat you at your own

SALESMAN SAM—By SWAN

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—Bv MARTIN*

FRECKLES AND lIIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

hustling game, at least I am not going to let you beat me. Go on with your hustling. Interview me, make mo speak, make me write, show me your friendly hands, teach mo your Charlestons, produce me your vamps and dose me with your synthetic gi until my knees ache and my head buzzes like a bee hive. I don't care and I won't care. Somehow I'll live up to it. And somehow I'll get to the end of this outward journey. Because the end of this journey is Hollywood, where even the wicked, I am told, are allowed to rest.

MR; FIXIT Tenant Protests Water in Basement,

Let Mr. Fixit present your ease to city officials. He is The Times representative at the city hall. Write him at The Times.

With fourteen inches of water in the cellar, a property owner has appealed to Mr. Fixit for aid in correcting an insanitary condition in the 1600 block on Lexington Ave. DEAR MR. FIXIT: We rented this house under promise of being repaired. Our basemnt has about fourteen Inches of water in It. The

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gas man can't get down to read the meter. Every time there is a rain the water gets a little deeper. The property owner and the agent has told us time after time that it would be taken care of at once, but nothing has been done. TIMES READER The only encouraging feature of your predicament Is that the gas man can't get the data for the bill. The board of health promised Mr. Fixit an early investigation. The board also is investigating an ♦insanitary drug store on E. Tenth St., reported by a reader. DEAR MR. FIXIT: Can anything !he done about machines being | parked on both sides of Sixtenth St., from Sherman Dr. to Denny St.? ! There are no sidewalks on either ! side of the street. TWO RESIDENTS. Under present regulations cars may be parked twelve hours in the residential district. However, you might ask one of your city councilmen to introduce an ordinance authorizing parking only on one side of the thoroughfare.

To TimC'S Reader: Mr. Fixit makes it his policy to handle no complaints of liquor law violations. They should be sent directly to policy. Mr. Fixit's job is to help you get things done at city hall, such as finding out why your street paving is delayed or why you cannot get a street light Installed.

OUR BOARDINU HOUSE—By AHERN

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