Indianapolis Times, Volume 39, Number 151, Indianapolis, Marion County, 2 November 1927 — Page 16

PAGE 16

T y\ V HURST | I I / \ \ L V Author of ‘THE SNOB” fl 1 J m. (Copyright, 1927, By Bell Syndicate, Inc.)

BEGIN HERE TODAY When Diana FarweU's mother overhears talk of love between her daughter and Louis Nelson, she is fearful that she may run away like her sister Vivian, who left home four years ago. She takes Diana to task in puritanical fashion. Mrs. Farwell favors an older man. Arthur Vane, a prominent San Francisco lawyer and an old friend of the family. Louis is Insanely jealous when he finds out that Arthur Vane has called on Diana, and rushes to see her. Frequent auarrels ensue between them. One night Mrs. Farwell finds Diana and Arthur in each other’s arms and an explanation seems in order. CHAPTER V r— — ARION’S amused voice soundMed behind her: “Where’s the boy friend?” “You tell me,” shrugged Diana. “It’s typical, Marion. The boys in this town make me tired.” “Oh, I don’t know about that,” retorted Marion. “They haven’t seemed so slow until recently. Still good enough for me.” Diana was shamed by the loyal reproach in her tone. After all Arthur Vane had lived here for twenty years. But being in no mood to beg anyone’s pardon, she permitted her remark to stand. She passed Louis on her way home. He had known she would. Well, she did! Triumphantly! In a blaze of anger. Just let him dare ask her for another date. And he would. She understood Louis. His anger would not endure for 24 hours. Bright head high in the air, she honked the horn vigorously and passed him by, confident that in this age-old game two could play and she, caring less, would be less hurt. Reaching home she sauntered in serenely, book beneath her arm. “What did you find to read, dear?” “Let’s see!” What was it? “Self Control, Its Kingship and Its Majesty.” By Williiam George Jordan. Oh dear! And now her mother would insist that she read it. “That is very nice,” purred Elizabeth. “Much better to select something worth while than to read so much of this silly fiction.” She pinched Diana’s cheek, playfully. “Sometimes I really think my liittle daughter is growing up.” Diana put the book on the table and trudged up the stairs. She had let herself in for a “dandy” time. Arthur would scarcely come again so soon. Louis was angry. And that book! She spent a resigned, lady-like, evening sitting stiffly beside her mother. “Man’s greatest enemy is himself,” read Diana. “Man in his weakness is the creature of circumstances. Whether he be victim or victor depends largely on himself.” She sighed and thought of Arthuh And Elizabeth, glancing over her shoulder at the “nice book” daughter was reading, thought of Arthur, too, and rocked on, well content. Diana was to look back on those hours with tears of longing. How could she have been so bored? So restless! So impatient with a mother who meant so well! The next morning before breakfast Arthur had called, asking Diana to a dance at the Country Club. Just an “infor.ma.'. party” .Doc Rugby's wife was getting up. She would call Diana, too, but he wanted to be sure to get his bid in before that of the ‘temperamental boy friend. Diana had to laugh. His attitude was so playful. As if he were deliberately throwing himself into the mood she liked. Not like Louis, who expected her to play up to his, what ever it happened to be. And Louis moods were varioius. Nevertheless Diana gave him credit for the fact that he neither came nor called that day. She had not thought him capable of such continuous displeasure. A CLEARS UP A LINGERING COUGH A lingering irritable cough is not so good. It reveals a wrong condition. But that wrong condition will quickly yield to the peculiar healing qualities of Foley’s Honey and Tar Compound, a true cough remedy of proven medicinal value. From 651 E. 46th St., Chicago: “A stubborn, lingering cough worried me, kept me awake, tired me out, but it quickly yielded to your good Foley’s Honey and Tar Compound, as my druggist assured me it would.” Always dependable. Sold everywhere.—Advertisement.

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corner of her heart ached a little. There had been times, she admitted, when Louis was the ideal playmate. Rides they had taken in her mother’s car, shrieking like demons down country roads; picnics, where steaks sizzled and coffee boiled into the hot coals; dances, where "Always” belonged to him, and floating in his arms, Diana had thought her dreams fulfilled. Had felt, indeed, a sort of divine contentment. She only loved like that when they were dancing. At other times there was sure to be friction of some kind. But then, i . . “Oh well,” Diana patted her wet eyes with a fat powderpuff. “One can’t have everything! She dressed carefully that evening, wearing a frail pink chiffon, with a silver girdle. The girdle emphasized her good points. Diana knew what they were, having listened to more than one impassioned suitor on the subject. She examined her figure, critically, but could find no fault with it. She realized that she was beautiful. Yet she <Jid not understand the heady quality of her deep, blue eyes. The appeal of the mouth so frankly untaught, so adorably innocent. The potential lure which men fancied they saw in her. That inexplicable "something” which Louiis had called “fire beneath the ice.” But her mother saw it. And watching the childish preening and strutting before the long glass, appraised it at its full value. “Here’s your fan, dearie.” Diana unfurled the fragile bit of silver gauze. “A lady with a fan! Mother, look!” “Yes, you are lovely. But don’t let it go to your head.” “I look like Dolores Costello. I wish I could be an actress.” Instantly the look she dreaded leaped into Elizabeth’s eyes. They were popping in terror. , “Diana Farwell, I’d rather see you in your grave.” “I was only joking. A fine chance I’d have to be!” She put her arms about her mother, partly in pentitence but mostly to hide. “Mother, please don’t look at me like that.” “A daughter is a great responsibility, Diana! Perhaps you will , undestand what it means some day.” v Her words gave Diana an unpleasant shock. Perhaps she would, some day. But she hoped it would be years and years from now. . . . Arthur was frankly pleased with her. Admiration shone from his dark eyes yet his manner was cool and friendly. He was entirely the distinguished, whimsical, man of the world she liked. How the other girls were going to envy her! They did. There were many comments in the dressing room. “How did you work it, old thing?” “Work what?” “As if you don’t know. S’allright if you’ll get us a dance with him.” Diana took her triumph modestly. She introduced Arthur to the girls he did not know. Privately she asked him to dance with as many of them as he could. "They love anew man,” she explained, candidly. “I believe you are trying to avoid dancing with me yourself.” “But you know better than that.” “What a child she is,” thought Arthur. Her utter lack of self-conscious-ness pleased him more than any sophistication could have done. But Diana was as far from realizing that as she was the other reasons for her fatal charm. Marion Graham was now openly Louis’ champjon. They had come together and were dancing nearly every dance. Diana was not jealous. Marion was too openly the round-faced, honest-eyed pal. But it hurt to have her avoid Diana. As if she thought Diana cared! Except for the coolest of nods they both seemed unconscious of her presence. Arthur was a good dancer. Not so graceful as Louis, for instance. But quite good enough. Diana tripped away dance after dance, reveling in the music, the brilliant colors, the laughter, the cloverscented breeze. Life seemed a gay light-hearteed affair. The sense of oppression caused by her promise to her mother lifted and floated away. Then the lights were darkened; moonlight stole through the open windows and the orchestra began to play, “Always.” Arthur was at her side with outstretched arms. But she shook her head. She could not dance it with anyone but Louis. But Louis was leaning gloomily against a doorway. “If he doesn’t come I’ll never forgive him,” she thought. There was a hard little lump in her throat. Then he came. Swftly, as Louis did everything, he swept her into his arms. They danced it without a word. Yet she was sure now he loved her. And for all her interest in Arthur Vane it was like a warm little fire in her heart. When it was finished Louis made no demand for a further explanation. There was neither anger nor jealously in his face. Nothing but tenderness as he said, “Thank you, Diana.” He turned and walked away. Diana was disappointed. She had hoped he would insist on seeing her again. Had secretly expected him to drag her outside for a stormy reconciliation. “But what would be the use?” she thought, miserably, watching him make his way across the crowded floor. She looked for Arthur. He was talking to his partner across the room. Telling herself she was “silly” Diana suddenly followed Louis outside. He was standing at the far end of the porch alone. “Louis,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. Can’t we at least be friends?” In spite of her hand against his sleeve he remained rigid, staring out across the velvety fairway. “I love you too much, Diana, to be just friends.” His words made her feel old. Was her innocent playtime so soon to be over? “We’ve had so much fun together,” she faltered.

| “Fun?” he repeated, tragically. ! She saw that his lips were trembling and his eyes were stormy with tears. “It hasn’t been fun for me. I want you. Oh, how I want You.” Feeling a little shocked and disgusted, Diana turned and .. . The days after the dance passed rapidly. They were full of wholesome, pleasant fun with Arthur. Long rides, swimming at the Country Club, golf. . . His attitude did not vary. He was ever the interested, charming companion, with no hint of sentiment. Until the night before he was to return to San Francisco, when Elizabeth Farwell, coming downstairs for a drink, ran squarely into her daughter, bright head buried on Arthur’s shoulder, one slender arm about his neck. . . . * * * CHAPTER VI D'“] LANA,” gasped Elizabeth. She stretched a trembling hand to i__J the dining room switch, revealing the tender scene with brutal 1 clarity. “Diana, what does this ! mean?” Only Diana realized the significance of her mother’s question. Her arm dropped from Arthur’s neck. He was paralyzed with embarrassment, saying simply: “I love Diana, Mrs. Farwell. She has just promised to marry me.” Tears filled Elizabeth’s round eyes, spilling out in rivulets over her plump checks. “I realize that she is awfully young,” Arthur continued, anxiously. “Perhaps you feel that I should have waited or that I am too old for her." “I should never give my consent.” Elizabeth answered, “if you were younger or less able to take care of her. And I most emphatically do not approve of long engagements.” It seemed to Diana that a flash of understanding passed between the two, this man who had asked her to be his wife and the mother who felt safety for her daughter lay in an early marriage. For oilfc dreadful instant she felt that they were conniving to keep her innocence to themselves. Shame forced the thought from her mind. It seemed disloyal to Arthur, who had proved that he did not love her only “that way.” It was because their relationship was so plainly “spiritual” that she had consented to marry him. “Daughter!” Elizabeth cried. “It will be hard for me to give you up, blit I think you have chosen a good man.” Afterwards, lying awake in her cool bed, Diana rehearsed the events leafing up to Arthur’s proposal. They had gone to a “movie,” then for a ride in her mother’s car. She was driving and as they sped past silent fields and scattered, lamp-lighted houses her, mind was with Louis and the rides they had taken togther. Arthur had spoken only after a prolonged silence. “Will you miss me when I have gone back to San Francisco?” “I certainly will,” she had replied, smcerely. “I envy you going back to the lights and excitement again.” “Do you mean that, Diana? Would you like to go, too?” “Would I?” “I wonder,” he continued, "if it’s only because of the lights and the excitement.” Silence, but Diana’s hands were trembling on the wheel. “Is it, dear? Or is it a little on account of me?” “I like you,” she faltered.

Let’s have no hedging about it. I love you, Diana. Is it taking advantage of your youth to want you for my wife?” "I don’t see why,” she answered, breathlessly. “Because you are so very young —so beautifully inexperienced. I wonder if when you are older you might regret it.” Diana did not answer. An elation she could not explain had swept over her with the comprehension of the fact that Arthur Vane was actually proposing. “I don’t know,” she said, after a moment, “what mother would think.” To Arthur, it seemed a natural remark for her to make. Sweetly dutiful! Asa matter of fact it was the first time in his life he had ever asked a girl to marry him. He had no conception of the way one ordinarily performs under such circumstances. Certainly, reflected Diana, it had been a sensible wooing. They had driven home, put the car in the garage, and entered the house through the kitchen. Half way across the dining room, he had taken her in his arms. Not wildly, as on the first occasion, but very tenderly. “Diana,” he whispered “I do love you—” Os its own accord one of her arms stole shyly about his neck. At this moment Elizabeth had blundered upon them. Her cheerful acceptance of the engagement, and her agreement to an early marriage hurt Diana, who had expected more reluctance. She did not realize that her mother’s joy was relief from her heavy responsibility. As if now, at least, Elizabeth might rock her life away in peace. Neither could Diana have understood the agony Elizabeth still suffered over that other daughter, whose life had been so tragically bungled, nor her foreboding sense of desolation; her premoniton of what life would mean alone in the empty house. . . . These things were a closed book to the girl. So remote are we all from the real emotions of those who love us! Diana woke to a brilliant, sunshiny day. She stretched like a lazy cat. Everything was going to be different now. She was engaged! The novelty of it carried her singing through her bath. She must open the old-fashioned locket to look upon her father’s handsome face. To wonder if he could possibly know. She felt the old ache for a companionship she had never known. But determined not to be sad today, she finished dressing and ran downstairs. There was approval as well as affection in. her mother’s kiss. “Arthur is leaving this morning?” “No,” Diana answered, feeling tremendously Important. “He has decided to stay another week now.”

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Before they had finished breakfast, Arthur was calling from his room at the hotel. “Good morning, sweetheart! Will you have lunch with me today?” She had been right. This new relationship was to change her entire life

They lunched at Walnut Inn. Diana, proudly conscious of the fact that she was an engaged girl. “I have wired about your ring,” Arthur explained. "I told them to send several so we can choose.” Diana had not thought of a ring. It would be fun to wear a diamond. But if she wore it every qne would know. She explained this to Arthur. “That’s what we want, isn’t it? There is no secret about it. I should like to be married in a month.” “Oh no! That’s too soon.” “Why is it? You haven’t anything to do that will take any longer than that.” A month! Only a month to prepare for the greatest adventure of her life! “I couldn’t, possibly,” Diana repeated. Arthur was disappointed. “But, sweetheart, I’ve explained to you that I can’t be away later in the year. If we go east on our honeymoon—" “But I have always wanted a Christmas wedding,” Diana said, childishly. She fext awkward and ill at ease when they discussed their future. For a moment she was afraid she was going to cry. He came to the rescue, gallantly. "Then a Christmas wedding, it shall be. I won’t be selfish about it. His tone even more than his words reassured her. The rings came. Elizabeth was delighted with the size and beauty of the stones. Diana did not care for diamonds but she thought any girl would have been thrilled to have Arthur select the most beautiful one and kiss it on her finger. “Now everyone will know that you belong to me.” The possessiveness in his voice both excited and irritated her. She wanted to take the platinum circle with its glittering heart of fire and fling it back to him. It was a symbol—an open sign of Arthur’s claim. Instead, she lifted her lips obediently. Her reasoning was obviously contradictory. Something seemed warning her to escape while there was yet time. Another deeper instinct urged that only through marriage would she obtain the freedom she desired. Life with Arthur would be no slavery. It would be a delightful, whimsical adventure. . . . Yet Diana sighed. Elizabeth gave a luncheon to announce the engagement. Heartshaped sandwiches, tied with pink ribbons; tiny china cupids; pink heart-shaped cakes; and frosted ice cream wedding bells. The girls were "simply thrilled to death.”

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“Why Dlana!“ “I never dreamed it, old thing.” Marlon alone refused to be rapturous. “I’m not at all surprised,” she said. Well, I hope you’ll be happy.” “But you don’t expect me to be,” Diana thought, resentfully. Elizabeth cooed from the head of the table, seeming more pigeonlike than ever. “Show the girls your ring, daughter. We think it is very lovely.” Self - satisfaction oozed to the surface of her voice. It annoyed Diana. She had no idea that this luncheon, with its sugar hearts and fat pink cupids was salving an old wound that her sister had made. Arthur came before the guests had left. He was greeted excitedly yet, Diana was pleased to note with awe. It was obvious that they considered him “different.”, “From outside.” She was a lucky girl. "Glad it’s over?” questioned Arthur, when all the guests had gone “Rather! It was a lovely luncheon, though, mother.” Elizabeth beamed. “I thought it was. Were you sorry we didn’t order the heartshaped ice cream? It seemed to me a little too much. The bells were newer.” Diana agreed, absently. She was wondering how soon Marion would tell Louis and what he would say. Not that it mattered, of course! “Tonight,” Elizabeth continued, “I’m going to leave you two young things alone. I want to go over and tell our pastor’s wife. The poor thing has been so lonely since her husband died. By the way, Arthur, she is thinking of moving back to San Francisco. They used to live there.” Diana was amused at Arthur’s courteous reply. The information could have no possible interest for him. After dinner, Elizabeth, rosily complacent, set out upon her delightful errand. Diana swung lazily. Arthur sat in her mother’s chair, smoking. From time to time both glanced at the ring, shining on the girl’s slender finger; Arthur with pride; Diana, doubtfully. She had definitely committed herself by announcing her engagement, she began to wonder if she had made a mistake. “Not sorry, Diana?” What an uncanny way he had of reading her mind! “Os course not! Why?” “You aren’t particularly peppy tonight.” “I’m tired,” Diana explained, goaded by that inexplicable feeling of being rushed into something. “I have a headache, too. Would you mind very much if I went to bed?” Instantly he was the solicitous lover. Did she want him to call her mother? Or wait there on the porch until she returned? Diana insisted, feverishly, that all she

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wanted was to go to bed. He mustn’t wait. But before she had started to undress the doorbell rang. Running down to answer it she was confronted by Louis Nelson. (To Be Continued)

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