Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 156, Indianapolis, Marion County, 6 October 1926 — Page 10

PAGE 10

SONIA A Story of Dangerous Love -£— - .By VIDA HURST I

At a farewell party given by aristocratic SIDNEY MAINE to the senior class of Stockton High School. SONIA MARSH, 17 and pretty, is discovered kissing JOB CARTER, in a dark bedroom. Sonia, whose parents are poor, is considered wild because she Smokes. Joe, who intends to work in a garage with his father, loves Sonia, but realizes he is not in position to give her the place in the world to which she aspires. A visit to her sister VERA'S home disgusts Sonia with married life, and she decides to not consider TOM UNDERWOOD’S proposal that she wait for him until lie is out of college. Sonia delivers a dress for DR. DONALD STILLWATER’S mother during her absence. After MARY, the maid, leaves the room, the young doctor offers to help Sonia get work out of town to satisfy her longing to escape from the scandal in Stockton. When she meets Don later, he. tells her a position will bp open for her the following week in his uncle's San Francisco office. * * * CHAPTER V The world whirled before Sonia’s eyes. She caught at Dr. Stillwater’s arm, "You mean . . . oh, honestly, that I have a job waiting for me in San Francisco?” “Does It mean so much to you, Sonia? Get In my car. I’ll take you home.” A week earlier Sonia would never have dreamed of being asked to ride in Mrs. Rayrpond Stillwater’s car. iilit she was too excited over her future to appreciate the present. “I want to give you a few instructions before you go,” said Don. "Better stay at the Y. W. until you've gotten your bearings. They can give you a list of outside rooms. And don’t get in automobiles with strange men.” This brought Sonia from her trance, laughing. "Say, listen, do I look as green as that?” “You don’t look green at all. Which may or may not be a protection. But I do want you to use your head, Sonia. You have one . . . I really predict a bright future for you.” "Do you, Don? Why? ‘‘Because, for one reason, you have a cold blooded strea\k of common sense, Then you are adaptable, learn quickly, and have too much pride to be vulgar.” Color stained her cheeks. She would be worthy of his con fidence. Oh, she would! But she could answer nothing. “And one thing more! Try to drop Borne of your rough talk. Not because it’s wrong, but because it cheapens you. Your voice is beautiful, Sonia. Has anyone ever told you that?” “No.” “Well, it is. Very low and sweet, with a husky quality that makes it appealing. When you get to San Francisco, make an effort to use it correctly, will you?” By all the laws that governed her temperament Sonia should have resented this. But she was clever enough to realize the value of it. So she accepted it sweetly. “I’ll try, Don.” ’That’s the girl. Here we are home. Would you like for me to come in and speak to your father?” "Father won't be at home yet. But I do wish you would talk with him. There’s going to be a reg-ular-scene when I mention it.” "I have a dinner engagement tonight. But I might get over about 9. Will that be soon enough?” ‘That will be fine. It’s awfully good of you.” * * * Sonia Jumped from the car and was in the house before he had time to drive on. ‘‘Mother,” she cried. “I’m really going to San Francisco. Dr. Stillwater has gotten a for me in his uncle's real estate office!” Mrs. Marsh dropped the striped wash silk she was basting. "Dr. Stillwater? What in the world does-he have tc do with It?” "Just about everything. I told him I wanted to go the day I took his mother’s dress home. And he wrote his uncle, Jed Thomas, in San Francisco.” “Jod Thomas? Are you sure it was Jed Thomas. Sonia?” “Why, yes, Mother; why do you look like that?” Oh, it’s only. . . Sonia, you n re the limit. You haven't said one word about talking to him before. You never tell me anything, Sonia; get my pincushion. What will your father say? When will you have to go? . . Sonia was astonished. She had never seen her mother excited before. Anna Marah advised her not to say anything to her father until Hr. Stillwater came. It would he 1 etter to let them talk it over together. While they were discussing it there was a tap at the door and Sidney Maine came in. Sonia had neither seen nor talked with her since Sidney’s party. Sonia was too proud to make any advances, yet she was genuinely glad to see Sidney, of her own accord. ‘‘Hello, old thing! Come on in!” ‘‘Hello youselfl” answered Sidney. ‘‘What are you doing? Come on, let’s take a walk.” Sonia replaced her hat and they started down the street towards town. "Coming to the spread tonight?” Sidney asked, kindly. "Hell, no!” "Why not?” “I loathe hen parties," Sonia answered, coldly, conscious that her kissing episode had made her most unwelcome in any of the girls’ homes, Sidney, not seeing farther than the opaque green eyes, hesitated. "Well, I’m sorry,” she answered, vaguely. No use being hurt at Sonia. Poor little nobody! But what gorgeous eyes! Like jewels in her white face. Sidney sighed, “One can’t have everything,” she murmured. "What do you mean by that?” ‘‘l mean you have the looks and clothes. And some of the rest of us have other things.” Sonia laughed. "Fathers with fat bank accounts and such?” "Yes.” "Looks and clothes aren’t all I have, darling,” confided Sonia. "I’m ijoing to have adventure, excitement, everything!” “What %re you saying?”

“Going to San Francisco,” sang Sonia. ‘‘Job in a real estate office— Don Stillwater’s uncle.” Sidney stopped short. "Oh you lucky girl! I can just picture you in San Francisco. You belong there if ever a girl did. Color, personality . . . I'm so glad." Her generous pleasure touched Sonia. “That’s sweet of you to say that, Sidney. You know I’ve always been restless here. Haven't seemed to belong and all that. You don't know what it will -mean to me to live in a place like San Francisco.” “You’ll love it. It’s the most wonderful city! I’ve visited my cousins there lots of times. Perhaps I’ll see you there. Wouldn’t that be fun?” “Will you look me up?” “I surely will* this isn’t a secret?” Sonia’s first instinct was for silence, but the thought vs Sidney telling the girls at the spread that night appealed to her. She would give them something new to talk about. "Father doesn’t know about it yet,” slje answered. ‘‘He won’t want me to go. But we’re going to have it out with him tonight. Don Stillwater’s coming over.” “Don Stillwater!” Sidney’s brown eyes opened wide. * * * Sonia thought dinner would never end. She pushed her plate away, untouched. A cup of tea. and she was through. She was too excited to eat. Naturally Sam Marsh noticed it. "What’s the matter tonight, honey? You aren’t eating anything." "Not hungry, Dad. That’s all.” “W’hat have you been doing today?” he asked, suspiciously. She lifted a serene face. "I spent the day with Vera. She wasn't feeling well.” The memory of her day with Vera was aready in the dim past. Poor Vera! With her babies and her unappreciative husband! Thank God it was not her! She could scarcely wait for her father to pick up hri paper so that she might start cleaning up. Mrs. Marsh went back to hep sewing machine- while Sbnia cleared the table and washed the dishes. Her mother looked excited, too. Two spots of red burned in her sallow cheeks. By 8 o’clock the living room was in order. Sonia gathered a huge bunch of red roses for the dining table. She changed her gingham dress for a soft green voile. At 8:30 o’clock the telephone rang. It was Joe Carter. “Sonia, are |ou going to the! spread tonight?” “No, I have another engagement. Why?” “I justl thought I’d like to go around thtere and walk home with you, that’s all.” “Well, I’m not going. I’m sorry, Joe.” There was a pause, then he asked, humbly, “Are you still mad at me, Sonia?” "Mad” at him? She had forgotten that Joe Carter existed. Yet she remembered now she had told him she hated him the week bfore. Sonia laughed. “No, I’in not mad any more.” '‘Can I come up then some night real soon?” Some night before she went to San Francisco! "Yes, Joe. Call me up again.” The sweetness in her voice dripped like honey through the telephone. “Oh,” she thought, “but I can afford to be sweet now.” Her father looked up from his paper frowning. "Was that Joe Carter?” "Yes, father.” "Well, I don’t want to se© him hanging around here any more. He’s given people enough to talk about where you’re concerned.” "Yes, father." As if that mattered now! * * * At 9 o’clock Don Stillwater knocked 'at the Marsh door. Mrs. Marsh dropped her sewing, but picked it up again. Sonia, her heart in her throat, opened the door. Her father rose, surprised but courteous. Don spent no time evading the issue. "I have only half an hour,” he said. “I ran away from guests at home. I came to tell you, MrMarsh, that my uncle, in San Francisco, has found a place for Sonia in the bookkeeping department- of his real estate office.” Sonia’s father grew old before her eyes. The flesh sagged on his cheeks. His eyes faded. He turned to his daughter, reproachfully. "You’ve gone ahead with your plans in spite of what I said to you, Sonia?” A lump rose in her throat at his beaten tone. She could have defied his rage. But his trembling lips were like hands clutching at her heart. "Oh, Dad, it isn’t that I don’t love you, but I have to get away from this town. I hate It. It’s killing me.” “Sonia,” Don said, calmly, “suppose you run out in the yard for awahile. I’d like to talk this over with your mother and father.” She was only too glad to obey. Her eyes were stinging with the tears she was too'proud to shed. What Dr. Stillwater told her parents she never new. * Although from her seat on the back porch steps she could hear fragments of their conversation. "Small town —critical attitude—too much attention," drifted through the summer night. Once she heard her father’s -broken voice. “This kissing business has hurt me, Don. More than it should, I suppose. I know she didn’t mean anything.” Thought was suspended as she sat in the dark, waiting. Her whole future seemed to hang on her father’s decision. If h© didn’t let her go now she might never have another chance. ...A future in

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Stockton apalled her. She must get away. Freedom to live her own life. ...Beauty, excitement... "And I will be careful,” she vowed, true to her promise to Don. "I won’t do anything bad.” She had been in San Francisco once as a little girl. But she could still r&nember the long trail of Market St., with its crowds of people and the bright lights... ‘‘Sonia,’ called her mother. She ran in, stumbling, and faced her father. He stretched out his arms to her. ”1 think It will kill me, Sonia, But you can g 0...” • • • Later In her bedroom, ehe criticized him for his sentimentalism. Why need lie spoil his sacrifice with tears? It was her mother, thought .Sonia, who would miss her the most. Her mother really needed her, yet she had not uttered one word of protest against her going. Perhaps her mother did not love her so much. Sonia wondered. Anna Marsh had gone on sewing just as if nothing had happened. Sonia took the white silk gown from the drawer where she kept it, and put it on. The creamy lace about her neck made her skin like satin. Her eyes were emeralds. ‘‘Sonia, dancing in a silver gown,” she whispered, “with emeralds on her white hands. ...” Kxcuement ia_ 1. fl ab thorough every vein. San Francisco! The word was magic. It would transform her overnight. In the midst of her dancing the telephone rang. Without waiting for a kimono she ran down the stairs. “Yes?” “Sonia, this is Tom Underwood. I hear you’re going to San Francisco.” Tom! She had forgotten her promise to him. But hadn’t he known she never could have considered it really? “Yes, Tom, I’m going. Who told you?” "Mother was over at Stillwater’s for dinner tonight. Don told her.” "I’m sorry. I was going to tell you myself tomorrow.” “Sonia, I want to see you. I’ve got to talk with you.” “Tomorrow, Tom. It’s late now. Every one is asleep.” As she ran upstairs she heard strange sounds from the front bedroom. She paused, horrified, in the dark to listen, then crept in shame back into h<sr own bed. Her mother was crying! * (To B© Continued)

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OTJT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

Saint aid Sinner By ANNE AUSTIN

CHAPTER XXI In the pause that/followed Cherry’s shocking, unbelievably rude refusal of Bob Hathaway’s offer of marriage, Faith resolutely kept her eyes from his, tried, with all the force of her will, to suppress the rising tide of exultation and relief that threatened to flood her body. Cherry didn’t want him! Cherry had hurled him back on himself with venom and sarcasm, had made his self-sacrifice seem silly and tawdry. Oh, Bob! Poor Bob! Were his eyes hot with anger now, or were they dazlingly blue with that incredible relief that N had glorified Jim Lane for a brief minute, only to pass on, leaving him gray-chepked and old and tired? Every nerve in Faith’s body clamored for her to look into Bob Plathaway’s face and read the answer there, but she did not dare. Joy’s nervous, high giggle broke the spell of silence. "What are you doing up this time o’ night, Joy?” Jim Lane demanded, moving toward the door slowly, as if his thin, stooped body were not strong enough for the burden of his troubles and of his shame. ”1 guess we’d better get to bed, all of us. I hope you'll not take what my daughter said seriously, Mr. Hathaway. She —I don’t think she’s quite herself tonight. Good night, sir, and I wish none of this bad business had hj*ppened. I—l don’t know how to apologize for Cherry—and my self —” "That’s all right, Mr. Lane,” Bob Hathaway offered his hand with boyish awkwardness. “I don’t blame you—all of us lose our heads sometimes. Good night, everybody.” Faith watched him swing off into the darkness, her pulses pounding. At the very last she had not been able to resist looking at hirti. And his good night had been aimed at her—at her alone! When they had returned to the house, Faith begged her father to go to bed, but he shook his head stubbornly. " "No. I’ll set up with her. It’s nearly 1 o'clock and you’ve got to get up early in the morning, to get Joy off to school, and Cherry and Junion off to work. I’U take a half

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By MARTIN

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

day off tomorrow, and get enough sleep to do me. Think she’s lookin’ better?” he asked anxiously, his mild, sad eyes fixed on the sleeping face of his wife. ‘‘Much better,” Faith lied, with a sob in her throat. “She’ll be all right tomorrow, Dad; just you wait and see." “I —I wigh you’d tell Cherry I'm—sorry,” he faltered in a husky whisper. “Something come over me all of a sudden—l never thought I’d live to see the day that I’d raise my hand against a girl child o’ mine.” “I’ll tell her, Dad. She deserved to be punished, but she’s too old so for a whipping. Don’t worry, Daddy.” Because her pity for him was almost more than she could bear, she stooped and kissed him on his fluttering, wrinkled eyelids—a caress she had never given anyone before in her life. She found Cherry’s door locked. "It’s just me, honey,” she called softly. “Go ’way!” Cherry’s strangled voice answered petulantly. "Just for a minute, honey,” Faitlr pleaded. "I’ve got a message for you.” After a moment the lock snapped, and Cherry stood before her, gnawing at her lips and dashing angrily at the tears that were streaming down her cheeks, one of them still reddened with the imprint of her father's hand. She looked amazingly little and young In her clinging silk crepe cfiemise, her rouna Knees as white as milk above the rolled tops of her silk stockings. Faith stooped, swung the tiny body up into her arms as easily as if Cherry had beena child, and carried her to her bed. "You lie there now, honey, and I’ll do your face for you, and brush your hair.” When she came back to the bed from the dresser, carrying hair brush, a bit of soft old towel, and jars of cold cream and “skin food,” she found that Cherry had rolled upon her side, her knees doubled up to her chin, her tiny, rose-tipped fingers pressing into her eyes, “You mustn’t cry like that, honey. You'll be sick,” Faith soothed her. “Dad asked me to tell you that he was sorry and ashamed —” “I deserved it!” Cherry sobbed

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more violently. “He ought to have covered my body with welts! He should have whipped me till *the blood ran! Oh, Faith, I'm no good! I wish I could die!” "No, you don’t, Cherry!" F’aith said more severely, but her hands were very gentle as she parted the riotous copper-and-gold curls and began to brush them with soothing monotony. “You saved me from that terrible man, Faltt* You and Bob. Why do you bother about me? Why don’t you give me enough rope to hang inyself? I'm no good, Faith! Bob knows it—Bob—” Fresh sobs choked off the words. did you humiliate him like that, Cherry? He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.” "Think I’m going to marry him when he doesn’t love me any more?” Cherry flared, her topaz eyes blazing under the aureole of her brushedout curls. • “He was just hurt and angry.” Faith read something in those blazing eyes that made her feel that her heart, so newly healed, so newly flopded with hope, was breaking again. “Any man would have been, Cherry. You can’t blame him!” How oould she plead with Cherry for him like that, she asked herself in a fury of pain. Cherry had refused him—had insulted him. Why couldn’t she let well enough alone — take the gift that the gods were so strangely offering her? But oh, the stark pain in those blazing golden eyes, in that twisted, quivering mouth! “I’m not blaming him!” Cherry cried, seizing Faith's hand that wielded the brush upon her curls. “Please go away, Faith! Please let me alone! Oh, I wish I could die!” “Because—because you love Bob?” Faith’s white lips asked the words but she knew the answer. “I’m crazy about him!” Cherry rolled over upon her side again, covering her face with her hands. didn’t know it, until tonight, coming home in the car. When I saw he didn’t love me, despised me, and when I saw you and him together—” “What do you mean, Cherry?” Faith knelt by the bed and took the shaking little body into her arms. “He’s in love with you.” Cherry put her arms around Faith’s neck and buried her face against Faith’s breast. “You don’t think you .and Bob Hathaway are the only ones in the world that can be noble, do you? I had to make him think I despised him, so’s he wouldn’t go on sacrificing himself for me. I couldn’t take him. Faith, after you were so good to me. I’m no good,

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By\AHERN

Faith, but -I love you a lot.” Once again that day Fait if told a lie for Cherry’s sake, toU It gallantly, with a gay voice, Sppled with laughter, that tore at her throat like sobs: “You darling little goose! I'm not In love with Bob Hathaway! I’m —l’m thinking of marrying George Pruitt. He asked me today." "Really, Faith! Honestly?” Cherry’s whole face was suddenly radiant, her eyes like yelloiH diamonds, as she stared up into her sister’s face. \ “Yes, really,” Faith nodded, '* but .she could not meet the glad brilliance of Cherry’s eye3. “But don’t say a word abqut it to mother and dad. I couldn’t leave mother while she’s so sick —we may be engaged for years, you know —If I take him. Don’t you think he’s nice?” The radiance died slowly out of Cherry’s face. “You don’t sound right,” she said slowly. "Oh, Faith, don’t go on forever being a selfsacrificing angel! You’re lying to me! You’re crazy about Bob Hathaway,and so am I, and he loves you and he doesn’t love me—any more. I could get him back but I won’t try I want you to have him, even if it breaks my heart.” “Don’t be a little Idiot!” Faith’s voice was husky with tears. “We’re a fine pair—swapping Bob Hathaway back and forth between us, as if he had nothing to say in the matter. Sit still on my knees, now, and let me cold cream your sac adorable, naughty little face that will get you into trouble as long as you live!" When Cherry was snuggled drowsily into her pillows. Faith tiptoed to her own room, utterly weary, her heart so tired with emotion that it felt incapable of hope or sorrow or pity or love. She stood for a moment, before beginning to undress, at the open window, through whiclu fluttered the first chill breeze of autumn. As she stood Inert, too tired to move, she was suddenly aware of a Negro’s voice, lifted to the stars in happy, carefree song: "When de roll is called up yondah Ah’ll be there!” Faith smiled and leaned out of the window to watch the big body of the singer lurching down the street. "And de saints and de sinners shall be pahted right and left —” "Saints! Sinners!” Faith whispered the words. How could a just God ever divide His children Into “sinners” and "saints”? There was a sinner in all of us, she reflected, and a Cherry had shown the saint <—a shy, clipped-winged little saint —

OCT. v 6, 1^26

that hid in her sinful, selfish young heart, when she had spat those venomous words at Bob Hathaway—for his sake and for Faith’s. And no one knew so well as Faith that an envious-hearted, evil-tempered little dwarf of a sinner dwelt in the depths of her own being, although the family, if they had been called upon to Judge, would have called her their “saint.” “Sinner and saint!” Faith tired mouth stirred In a faint smile. “There ain’t no such animals—separately. We're all both.” Since there was no one to overhear her, It didn’t, matter that her meaning was not clear. The next morning, with Joy starting to school, Junior getting away early on a tour of the county with I his "traveling store” of automobile* accessories, Mrs. Lane requiring almost constant attention. Aunt Hattie visiting to help out and the house to be kept quiet so that Mr. Lane could snatch a much-needed nap after his all-night vigil. Faith had little time to brood. At 2 o'clock in the afternoon Bob Hathaway telephoned, asking her If she could take time off that evening from nursing her mother to drive with him for an hour. His was pleading, even tender. "I’m sorry, Bob, but I'm afra/d I can’t get away.” She forced her voice to be casually regretful. "Call me up again” soon.” The angry snap of his receiver upon its hook was, strangely enough, as sweet to her ears as a bar of exquisite music. She was dishing supper that evening when Cherry strolled into the kitchen with elaborate non(jha4imce, her left hand ostentatiously supporting her chin, so that a huge diamond on her slim third finger winked and twinkled like an imprisoned star. "Cherry! Where on earth—?” Faith set down a dish of Irish stew so hard that the steaming stuff slopped over. "Old Mr. Clyny wields & wicked checkbook, doesiVj he?” She laughpd a harsh, metallic little laugh, a "What’s that moss-covered old saying—‘l’d rather be an old man’s oarling than a young man’s aU ve’?" (To Be Continued) j CAFETERIA FILES PAPERS Articles of incorporation for the Seelbach Cafeteria, Indianapolis, were filed today at the Statehouse giving capltal*stock as $5,000. Walter O. Warner, Bessie Warner and S. E, Berry are incorporator?,