Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 113, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 August 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

“The VANITY CASE” V A Tale of Mystery and Love By CAROLYN WELLS

(Continued From Page 1)

to have much to do with a club in Harbor Park, even to he president of it.” "Yes, I do,” Myra admitted. "Let the Harbor Park people take one of their own men for president. We of the Gardens have no call to mix in with them to that extent. If Perry chooses to go over there to play golf, because the links are better than the Garden links, let him do so. Let him be a member of the club so he can do so. But as to being president—no.” “All right, old thing,” said Heath, amiably, "I’ll refuse the candidacy, since it pesters you so. We’vi been married six years, and I never before saw you so het up. Give me a light, somebody.” • He lazily held a cigaret to his lips, while Bunny picked up one of four lighted candles that stood on a refectory table, and held it for his use. As she put it back, she idly opened a portfolio of sketches that lay on the table. Inside was a Yard, which said, in elaborate lettering: “The Work of Perry Heath.” "What’s this for?” she said, taking it up and closing the portfolio. "Oh, that's a work of art in itself,” Heath told her. "There was a loan exhibition here last summer, and that was the card that designated my collection of masterpieces. It is such a gem of Spencerian work, I saved it”

The lettering on the card was or- 1 namented with the OW-fashioned Spencerian flourishes, and further embellished with the strange bird of unknown species, with which Spencerians were wont to decorate their pen work. Bunny laughed at it, and gayly stuck it in the corner of the frame of one of Heath's best sketches that hung on the studio wall. "All right, then, Perry,” Myra said, more mildly now, "you’ll withdraw your name from the candidates, and give up the idea of the club presidency?” “ ‘Nobody, my darling, could call me a fussy man.’ ” sang Heath. "Os course, I will, if your ladyship de crees it. That will leave three names to vote on still. But I doubt if Anderson gets it. Seems to me Pinkie Garrison is a more general flavorlte.” "Nixy," Inman disagreed. "If not Anderson, then George Morton.” "Well, they’re all Park men,” Myra argued. “I don’t care which of them Is elected, if Perry doesn’t run.” "I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!” Heath reiterated. "Now, for Heaven’s sake, drop that subject. Come on, let's all go to bed. A spot of Scotch, Larry?” "Sure. This has been an exhausting conference. Gosh, what a watery concoction! You take this. I’ll mix my own!” Inman set back on the table the mild highball Heath had compounded for him, and. his eye lighting on the card in the picture frame, he took dffwn and set it up against the tall glass, so that “The Work of Perry Heath” seemed to refer to the Scotch and soda. CHAPTER 111.

With a smile, Heath appropriated the drink. He cared little for whisky, while Inman was rather too fond of it. Bunny sidled up to Heath, and begged a sip from his glass, while Myra, now apparently reconciled! again to the “vamp,” herself accepted a portion of Larry’s nightcap "The dove of peace once more hovers in our midst,” Perry said, as he rescued Jits glass from the ab sentminded Benny. He beamed through his sHell-rimmed glasses, with the air of a kindly paterfamilias. "I believe those convex lenses make your eyes look bigger,” said Bunny, looking closely Into the said lenses. ‘ A good thing,” remarked Myra. "Perry's eyes are all the better for a bit of magnifying.” "I rather fancy my, eyes,” Heath said, imperturbably. "Awfully good color, what?” "No color at all,” retorted his wife, promptly. “Just commonplace uneventful eyes. Like your hair. Ex cept that you wear it a bit long, there's no character to It whatever.” "I don’t wear it long. It's cut as shorties Larry's.” "At the back, yes. But wear it long on top—so you can shake It back with the gesture of an artist.” "That will do, Myra,” said Heath, with unusual daring. "Please let my personal appearance alone, will you?” "Certainly. Perry. It doesn't Interest me at all.” Heath stared at her. What was the matter with Myra tonight? She was all on edge for some reason—was it really because of the election question, or was she upset at his attentions to Bunny Moore? Bunny felt sure It was the latter, and remarking again her Intention to wash her hair, she danced out of the room and up the stairs. "That child Is a picture!” said Heath, with the sole and amiable desire to annoy his wife. But he didn't succeed, for Myra only said, "Yes, she is,” in an abstracted tone that gave the impression of absent-mindedness. "I'm off for bed. too.” Inman declared. "I hope after I leave the room you'll say I'm a picture.” “Indeed we shall.” Heath assured him. "There are all sorts of pictures, you know.” "Tep. Good night," Larry said, a little shortly, and swung himself off. Husband and wife sat silent, for several moments, though occasionally glancing at one another. At last, Mvra gave a little sigh, and said, "Blow out the candles, please, they bother my eyes. And put out the lights, too, we may as well go to bed. It's Katie’s night out.” Heath slowly blew out the, four candles on the table, but delayed turning off the electric switches. ”W'nat ailed you tonight, Myra?” he said, not .unkindly, but a trifle accusingly. "Oh, I don’t know,” she returned, her pale face showing a slight frown. "We are so hopelessly mismatched, Perry. Aren't we?" "We sure are. What would you care to do about it?” "What can we do? If we could be divorced. I'd marry Larry, of course. I can’t see you marrying Bunny, though.” "Probably not—though I might do worse." "You could easily flo worse, and probably would. But It’s out of the question. We can't have the awful publicity of that sort of thing—and then your secret would come out —" "What?" "Oh, don’t think I don't know all

about it. Doh’t be an ostrich! But If you cah seeVany way to , our legal separation—” "Collusion is not favored by the courts.” "I know that. But other people And ways to—to —’’ "To whip the 'devil around the stump. Yes, I know —but you don't want to go to Reno —” "Os course not! I don’t want to do anything. But if you could—er—disappear—” "And never come back? And under the Enoch Arden law, you could marry Inman'’ Oh, well, my lady, you’d have to wait seven years for that!” "I'm not sure I should. Well, if you can’t—if you can think of no way out. —then—" “Then what, Myra?” “Then, perhaps—oh, well, secrets sometimes leak out Does Bunny know?” “Heavens! Why do you lug in that child all the time? I don’t know or care what she knows!” "Aren't you in love with her, Perry?" "Good Heavens, no! She’s pretty and amusing, but after y>n minutes she bores me to death. I like Polly Lanyon bet,er than Bunny ” "Oh, yes, a Harbor Park girl! I do believe your natural instincts are more like the Parkers than the Gardeners after all.” , "I dare say. At any rate, T like the club, even if you won't let me be president—” .“Oh, perhaps you may he. yet.” "Perhaps so." Heath spoke gravely, more so than the subject seemed to warrant. “You ought to know.” “Yes, I ought to know.” The woman spoke gravely also. All signs of bickering or caustic banter were gone now. Husband and wife seemed to be at a crisis Was a parting of the ways imminent or would it all blow over, as it had done before? “Let’s sleep over it,” suggested Heath, suddenly. "Go to bed, dear, and if necessary, we'll # have this discussion continued in our next.” Myra rose, abstractedly walking toward she wide doors, and then through into the lounge, and up the stairs. Peery looked at his watch, saw it was only eleventhiry, hesitated about sitting down to read for a while, decided against It, and, snapping off the lights, went up to his own room. It was just midnight when Myra softly opened her bedroom 'door and crept down the^stalrs. Sho felt her way In the dark, her sandalled feet making no sound on the rugs, and silently went on till she reached the studio. There, one small shaded lamp was glimmering, and Inman stepped from the shadows to greet her. "I was afraid you wouldn't come.” he said, simply, as he took her In his arms. "I was afraid I wouldn’t, too,” she returned, and the unusual smile that came to her face proved how beautiful she could be when she was happy. "But you did!” he whispered exultantly. “That Is quite evident,” she smiled again, relaxing in his embrace, leanjmg her lovely head back to look into his eyes. "What did Perry say to you? Any hope?” "We didn’t get anywhere. I broached the subject, but after some aimless and futile talk he said we'd better sleep on it anjrtake it up some other time.” "I did, and the other time is right now.” This was from Heath himself, who entered the studio and snapped on more lights as he spoke. (To Be Continued)

1B) 0 w° w Emsiiess iisses^ By BEATRICE BURTON Author of “Gloria, The Flapper Wife”

The names in this story are purely fictitious and are not to be taken a# r {erring to any particular pereon. E'See o r firm.

CHAPTER LXVI One afternoon toward the end of April, Cornelius Tuydeman came into the office two hours later than he usually returned from lunch. “I've been playing hookey with an old friend of yours,” he said, looking down at Mary Rose and showing all of his handsome white teeth in a wide grin. , She raised her head, with its coils of shining brown hair, from her typewriter. "Who was that?” she said. "Jack Manners,” he answered, and then, as she said nothing, he went on: "He is a friend of yours, isn’t he? He said you used to be secretary to him over at Dexter’s.” Mary Rose nodded gravely. "Yes —I used to work for him,” was all she said. She wondered if John Manners ever had been a real friend of hers? Would a friend have believed Flossie’s absurd lie about herself and

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

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Tom Fitzroy? Os course, there was jealousy— Sorpetimes that made people believe tales that otherwise they would have pooh-poohed! “Queer thing about his engagement to that pretty Miss Hinig, wasn’t it?” Cornelius Tuydeman asked later in the He and Mary Rose were fast becoming very good friends, and jhe was not nearly so shy with her now as he had been She swung around iir her chair and looked curiously at him from nuder her level black brows. "How do you mean—Queer?” she asked. She was wildly curious to know about thdt broken engagement. She had wondered 10,000 times which one of the pair had broken it —Doris or John. "Well, they’ve been running around together for years and years,” Tuydeman told her. He stopped, and seemed to be turning something over in his mind. “ 'Way back in high school days, Doris Hjnlg was in love with him,”

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he said at last. "I can remember the way the girls all used to laugh at her for being so jealous of hm. She would sulk all evening if he danced twice with anybody but her. "And then several years ago they got engaged. But for some reason or other the marriage didn’t come off. There was some talk about her refusing to marry him at the last minute because she thought he was in love with a red-haired widow he met at college.” Mary Rose felt herself suddenly hot with jealpusy of a red-haired widow that she had never heard of before in her life! "But if he was in love with any red-haired widow, he must have got over it in short order,” Cornelius Tuydeman’s even voice went on. “For, first thing I knew, he and Miss Hinig were going everywhere together again. But I guess the engagement's off for good this time. They tell me that she's rushed off to Europe for two or three years. And I can't say that Manners looked exactly broken-hearted when I was playing handball with him this noon at the Athletic Club.” He laughed, with another flash of his splendid teeth. "We bachelors,” he said, and shook his head as if whatever he had to say about “us bachelors” was too good to be said aloud\ "I thought you were a bachelor girl, too, until today,” he said. “But Jack Manners tells me you’ve been married! May I be very rude and ask you what kind of a widow you are—grass or sod?”

SALESMAN $AM —By SWAN

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By MARTIN

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

Suddenly Mary Rose didn’t like him quite so well as she had. She hated that phrase—"grass or sod?” “I married Dr. Fitzroy when he was dying,” she said coldly, and looking at him she saw that he was watchng her narrowly. It came over her, swift as lightning, that this man was in love with her. He put out his hand and touched the bare third finger of-her left hand with one of his. She drew it away. The mere touch of any man in the world was hateful to her—any man but John Mannefs. "I notifce you don’t wear any wedding ring—Mrs. Fitzroy.” Tuydeman obesreved, flushing iarkly as he saw her snatch her hand away. “I don’t like Mr. Tuydeman,” she told her mother that night when they were doing up the supper dishes. This was the time of day when they always talked over things. “Hmm! I thought you said he was so awfully nice a while ago,” said Mrs. Middleton, as she emptied the gray soapy water out of ,the dishpan. "I don’t think he’s nice now," Mary Rose anscwered, with a quick shake of her head. ‘iHe tried to take hold of my hand today. I think he’s getting a little crush on me.” Mrs. Middleton gave her gay little tinkle of a laugh that was so like Flossie’s. "That’s a funny reason for not liking a young man—because he's fallen in love with you,” she said. "Mary Rose, I think you're a puzzle.

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There was a little restaurant where Mary Rose always ate her lunch on rainy days. It was not a good restaurant, nor even a very clean one. But it was only two blocks away from the Morrell Steel Mills and on rainy days it was always crowded to the doors at noon time. It was this wet April day when Mary Rose Middleton opened its rain-spattered doors ar.d went in. The smell of hot food and steaming clothes and coffee made her a little fhint and dizzy as she stood waiting to sit down. Then a man got up from a table for two, close beside her, and Mary Rose sat down in the empty chair before she saw who was sitting at the other side of the tiny table— John Manners! Her heart gave a Jump and she began to stammer something and get up. Then, realizing how foolish she must appeal- to him, she sat down again and picked up the soiled, greasy menu from the soiled, greasy tablecloth. "How have you' been all these long months, Mary Rose?" he asked, when she had ordered soup and coffee in a voice that shook. "Very well,” she answered, with an effort, looking at the steam-cov-ered window beside her. She could feel his gray eyes on her face and she couldn't trust herself to meet them. But at last, she made herself look at him. "I’ve been married since I

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

—left the Dexter Company," she said. “Did you know?” He nodded. “Yes—l wrote to you at the time of your husband's death, Mrs. Fitzroy,” he answered, his voice hesitating on the name of Tom's widow. “I tore your letter up!” said Mary Rose lifting her proud little chin. The waiter brought her soup in a thick white bowl, and she tried to eat it. But she was hot and trembling all over. Her body, her brain and her heart seemed to be chanting altogether: "I love him! I love him!” Manners pushed his half-emptied plate back a trifle on the table. "Vile food they have here,” he said savagely and called a waiter for his bill. “He's going—he’s going,” thought Mary Rose with a. sinking of her heart. "In a minute he’ll be gone and then maybe I'll never see him again.” He half-rose from his chair, and then sat down again. "I wasn’t surprised at your man riage to Dr. Fitzroy," he said in a low tone. “Your little sister, Flossie, toDk pity on me weeks before it happened, and told me about it. She evidently saw how gone I was on you—” He struck the table a smart blow with his fist. Mary Rose raised her clear bllue eyes to his. “You believe her?” she asked. "Os course—” “And you didn’t believe me that

*•) <

night when I told you that you were the only man in the world for me?” she asked. "'When I told you I'dt never marry Tom Fitzroy?" He was silent. Mary Rose looked at him thoughtfully. Should she tell him about Flossie’ai confessed lie? Should she tell him how she hadri married Tom Fitzroy—on his death bed? Should she tell him that she never, never would have married Tom ex :rpt for the reason that she had married him—to ease his passing? Then John spoke again before shn could make her decision. "But you did marry Fitzroy,” he said. “I guess that proved that what Flossie said was the fYuth.” “All right! Let him believe it then!” she thought recklessly. “If he wants to take her word against mine, let him take it! I should worry!” And when she said good-by to him, her smile was as light as her heart was heavy. (To Be Continued.) The sun begins to shine again in Mary Rose’s life in tomorrow’s installment. corns wnrk Quickrelief from painful i/j , m f corns, tender toes and y JL pressure of tight shoes. DlScholl's Xino-pads