Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 61, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 August 1928 — Page 9

£UG. 1, 1928_

T rvrm mr rriTrrir \ JjU V 1; ±UK inU DEWEY GROVES

THIS HAS HAPPENED BERTIE LOU WARD marries ROD BRYER, who had previously been engaged to LILA MARSH. The tatter amuses herself by telling their friends that she was Rod's first love, and continues to make life miserable for the bride until she meets a rich MR. LOREE and marries him. Then she asks Bertie Lou to forgive the past. Trying to keep up socially* with their wealthy friends plunges the Bryers in debt and Rod becomes depressed. Lila seizes her chance to persuade him to accept a higher salary from Loree, promising security from financial worry. Shortly after, she asks Rod to put some of her jewels in the office vault during her husband's absence. When he returns the case the jewels are gone. He wants to notify the police but she demurs, pointing out that suspicion against him might spoil his caruer. They keep the matter secret, and Rod promises to pay for the loss as he can save the money. Bertie Lou finds out that Rod has deceived her twice regarding his engagements with Lila and is heartbroken. A telegram calls her to her sick mother and she leaves without seeing Rod. Lila prevails on him to spend the week-end at their country homa to keep from being lonely. Bertie Lou is angered at his indifference and stays away several weeks. Lila plants seeds of doubt In Rod's mind, and he is so cold when Bertie Lou comes back that she goes out to dinner with another man when Rod tells her that he has an evening engagement. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXX BERTIE LOU experienced a gratifying sense of action in speeding along the parkway with Marco in his open rdadster. The rush of a cool wind in her face, the soft whir of the motor—these were in perfect tune with her mood. She wanted movement, activity—even danger she courted. Marco took a curve on two wheels and Bertie Lou was thrown over against him before he got the car on all four wheels again. But she did not protest. Rather liked it. He stole a glance at her, thinking she might be too frightened to speak. There was no hint of fear on'her countenance. “You’re a nervy girl,” he complimented her. “I hate squealers.” “Go as fast as you like,” Bertie Lou told him. But Marco was through. He didn’t dare get another ticket. Neither did he want an accident. His father’s ultimatum, delivered in dead earnest just before he sailed for Europe a few weeks since had left Marco duly impressed. They arrived safely at Sherrard’s. And Marco was hungry, so they took a secluded table and dined without dancing. While they awaited the hors d’oeuvre he offered Bertie Lou another cocktail. She did not refuse, so Marco poured the drinking water back into the jar and added the cocktails to the ice that was left in the glasses. Bertie Lou was not accustomed to drinking. The gin she had taken at the apartment was the first she had tasted since her sudden departure for Wayville. And it was after 9 o’clock now—nothing to eat since a bit of salad at lunch. Still, she did not feel that drink—the fresh air had overcome its effect. The orchestra was playing a sentimental waltz. It was too sad to be endured. Bertie Lou wanted to be gay. She drank the second cocktail j in Marco’s manner—all at once. “Let’s dance,” she pleaded, but Marco said no. Said he wouldn’t until he’d had something to eat. The food was served but Bertie Lou was now no longer in the mood for leaving the table. There was a curious numbr a? i in her finger tips and she felt as ii her clothing was all that held her up. “You’d better eat something,” Marco advised, watching her as she pushed the third plate away. He didn’t want her to feel her drinks too much. A girl who had to be dragged around the dance floor was a flat tire as far as he was concerned. He liked ’em peppy. They could get “half-lit” if they tvanted to, but he objected to having them pass out entirely. Bertie Lou wouldn’t eat, so he didn’t order anything to drink. After dinner they drove again for an hour and then returned to the dance. When Marco wanted a drink he went out to the bar and got it. .Until Bertie reprimanded him. It was 1 o’clock. The place would close at 2. Marco ordered highballs, but Bertie Lou surprised him. She drank only half of hers. Nothing could make her gay. She knew that. No use making herself eick with stuff she didn’t want. She’d broken that silly promise to Rod. That was all she wanted to do. Now she would see if he cared he find it out. Marco came upstairs with her iand unlocked her door. She let him come in to say good night to her. Bertie Lou snapped on a switch iand the hall was filled with faint light from a golden Chinese lamp. She put out her hand to Marco. He ignored it and kissed her on the month. Bertie Lou was too surprised to speak, Earlier in the evening he had tried to kiss her and she’d told him not to make a mistake about that if he wanted kisses he could take somebody else out. He had been so ready to take her at her word that she hadn’t expected him to try again. “Good night, Mrs. Bryer,” he said cooly, and Bertie Lou was rather startled by the swiftness of his departure. She tried the door behind-him just to see that the lock had caught, then turned toward her bedroom just as a light was snapped on in the living room. Rod was standing beside the davenport, tying the sash of his dressing gown. Bertie Lou saw that he had made a bed for himself there—a bed that was in full view of the front door. He must have seen Marco kiss her! “Yes, I saw it,” he Sj&id; “If you’re pondering about that.” Bertie Lou smiled “No attempt to hide it,” she Replied serenely. “What’s the sentence going to be?” “Do you want a divorce?” Rod asked bluntly. Bertie Lou took it well. Inwardly 6he quivered from the blow, but Rod saw only a nonchalant exterior. “How about you?” she countered. For a moment they faced each Ither quietly and steadily. It was gony for Bertie Lou, and Rod was jot happy, either. [He was doomed, he felt, to misery, ben as Bertie Lou herself felt that |isery*would be her fate,.

He did not want a divorce. What good would it do him? He did not know that Lila loved him, but even if he had known he would not have wanted to put himself in a position to tempt her to leave Cyrus. And divorce would mean a lot of trouble; his parents would grieve over it, and he and Bertie Lou would have to endure Wayville’s gossip for nothing—for nothing, that is, unless a divorce would add to someone’s happiness. Perhaps it would be Bertie Lou’s. “I’d rather give you a divorce than witness another scene like that,” he told her quietly. “You ought to be free for that sort of thing.” Bertie Lou felt a surge of relief come over her. That sounded as if he really cared! “That was only a little war tax,” she laughed. “But of course if you object ...” "I expect you not to give any man a chance to laugh at me,” Rod interrupted. “Then you don’t object to anything short of a little good night kiss?” Bertie Lou came back, covering her seriousness with an arch smile. “You may do as you please as long as you don’t forget that you’re married,” Rod replied coldly. Bertie Lou looked at him with j eyes ablaze for a full moment. Then: “May I hope that you will not forget it either?” she cried, coming closer to him. “Bertie Lou!” he exclaimed sharply, “you’ve been drinking." Bertie Lou challenged him with lifted chin and defiant expression. “What if I have?” she stormed. “You’ve just given me permission to do as I please. But that’s a good joke coming from you!” she stopped and laughed in his face. Rod winced under her sneering tone. She had left him for months, with only brief, cold notes exchanged between them, yet he felt not entirely innocent of blame. He could not help caring for Lila, but he regretted it. If Bertie Lou had known about it she could not have said more cutting things, he thought. “You may make terms, too,” he said quietly. “If you think we can live together in any better understanding. I don’t mean a divorce. I’d rather not have one if there’s a chance we can make a go of it, each in his or her own way.” The last words came with significant meaning. Bertie Lou went just a little white, she feared. “I’ll be easier on you,” she said steadily, ‘because I know how hafd it is to remember you’re married.” She meant him to believe that marriage was as much a handicap to her as to him. He believed it. “Any time it’s impossible to re-

“Nothing to get het up about," Bob assured her gruffly. “Faith and I will go anyway and see you kids there. But look out for that Dick Talbot. I hear he’s the season’s prize sheik.” During the drive to the Marlboro Country Club—Dick Talbot at the wheel of his own cream-colored sports roadster, Crystal beside him and Tony and Lon Edwards in the rumble seat—Crystal tried nobly to follow Tony’s well-meant advice: “Be yourself.” But Dick Talbot seemed stubbornly uninterested in Crystal’s real self, or that part of it which she tried to show him. “I wonder what he’d do,” Crystal mused miserably, “if I said exactly what I think and did what I want to do? What if I said, ‘Richard, please like me, please look at me as you look at Tony. “ ‘Give me a chance to make you. want'to kiss me, as you did Tony. . . .’ What if I reached up and stroked his smooth, black, thick hair, and then cuddled against him, my head on his shoulder? Would his arm go around me? Other girls do such things and get away with them. Aloud, she made desperate effort to draw her silent escort into conversation. “Have you read any of Cabell? He’s so frightfully erotic, isn’t he? I’ll never forget when Tony and I read ‘Jurgen.’ We were so deliciously shocked, and we knew we’d be called up before the Dean —an awful prim old prune—if we were caught reading it—” The young man raked her with a sideways glance of unwilling interest. “You’and Tony went to school together? I suppose she was a riot in a girls’ college. God! All that pep and personality and beauty and only girls to get the benefit.” “Oh, it wasn’t a nunnery!” Crystal laughed with artificial gayety. a little too loudly, so that Tony and Lon Edwards would conclude that she and Dick were getting on famously. “Tony and I were on the go simply all the time.” “Listen, Crystal,” Dick Talbot muttered, his black eyes flashing her a glance of honest bovish appeal, "Tony isn’t engaged, is she? You ought to know whether she’s serious about any other man or not—” Crystal knotted her pretty hands tightly in her lap and bit her lips hard before she released them to laugh loudly and trillingly, still for the benefit of the rumble seat occupants. But she answered, in a low voice: “No, she’s not engaged. And neither am I if anyone should happen to ask you. We just took our fun where we found it—and how!” She laughed again, then asked with assumed brightness, tucking her wind-mussed, marceled head to gaze upward at him provocatively, “Why—Richard? You don’t mind if I call you Richard, do you? It’s my favorite name for a man—” “I hate it. Like Dick,” the young man answered, discourteously ungrateful for the relief she had given

member it, let me know first,” he returned. "I promise the same to you.” Bertie Lou whirled toward the door. In the hall she halted, to ask him why he didn’t use the guest room. “If you’ll put some sheets on the bed I will,” Rod answered calmly. Bertie Lou went on- In a few minutes she called to him that the room was ready. Rod entered as she left. “Thank you,” he said. Bertie Lou did not answer. “Good night,” he added. Very faint and indistinct came her reply as she hurried down the hall. He heard her door close quietly. But there was no sound to tell him what the closed door meant to her. So this was marriage! No matter how many dreams you brought to it, marriage became, finally, a thing of the earth. Bertie Lou, in a heap on the bed, laughed through bitter tears. Funny things—people. All about them were the wrecks of marriages, yet the poor dumb creatures went on marrying in the belief that they could escape the common curse. Bertie Lou recalled the high hopes that had filled her heart on the night before her wedding. They were nothing now but bleaching bones on the highway to heartbreak. Once clothed in the exquisite promise of love they seemed to Bertie Lou like naked skeletons as she reviewed them after a year of marraige. Rod had forgotten all about It—but the next day was their first wedding anniversary. When it dawned Bertie Lou was sunken-eyed and shaky, but game to make the be~t of things. “Life’s a rotten affair,” she soliloquized and got up to pull down the shade on the hot summer light. “But it’s just the same for all of us; no use to whine. Maybe someday ... if we take our love together to some sky! . . . some sky that isn’t filled with skyscrapers . . . now stop crying, silly . . . wedding days don’t go on forever. “Who’d want them to? Couldn’t eat honey and sip nectar all the time. But that doesn’t mean there aren't other pleasant things in the world once we know the whole thing’s a dump heap anyhow.” Having come to her decision not to leave Rod until he wanted to be free, Bertie Lou fell into a light sleep. At eight o’clock Rod knocked j on her door and she sat up in bed | with a nervous start. “Come in,” she called, doing her ! best not to let her voice betray ! her hope that he had remembered their anniversary. To Be Continued)

him. “But call me anything you like.” “I know how you feel,” Crystal assured him brightly, while her heart ached dully ana the palms of her hands grew very moist with resentment and embarrassment. “A lot of the boys call me ‘Crys’ for short. It’s awfully funny, isn’t it—Tony and Crys, Lon and Dick? You’d never guess from our names that two of us are girls—what did you say?” “I said here’s the club.” He swung the car sharply to a parking place between a long line of machines and heaved out without opening the door. “Still there, Tony? I‘m going to have the first dance or I won’t play!” To Be Continued. Burned Fingers Cause Death By Times Special FT. WAYNE, Ind., Aug. I.—Miss Velma Schmidt, local factory employe, is dead of poisoning that developed from burns on her fingers. She became unconscious and was never able to tell when or how she received the burns, which at first did not attract any notice.

Dial Twisters Daylight Saving Time Meters Given in Parentheses

WFBM (275) INDIANAPOLIS (Indianapolis Power & Light Cos.) 4:so—ltems of interest from Indlanapolis Times Want Ads. s:oo—Correct time. s:ls—"What'S Happening”—lndianapolis Times. S:3O—A chapter a day from the New Testament. s:so—Care of the hair and scalp, Stanley E. Horrali, Hair-A-Gain Studios. s:ss—Baseball scores right off the bat. o:oo—Correct time. Ed Resener with WFBM dinner ensemble, Dick Powell, soloist. 6:so—Business research, E. J. Kuntz. Indiana University. 7:oo—Eari Gordon on studio organ. 7:3o—Marott Hotel trio, courtesy KruseConnell Ccmpany. B:oo—Drama period. Arthur Beriault. B:3o—Servel sefenaders. Indianapolis Power and Light Company. B:ss—Four H Club talk. 9:oo—Ninety minutes with Capt. Clark and his leather pushers at Ft. Harrison Punch Bowl. 10:30—"The Columnist.” 10:43—Dance music. WKBF (252) INDIANAPOLIS (Hoosler Athletic Club) s:oo—Late news bulletins and sports, eourtesv of Indianapolis News. 6:oo—Dinner concert. 7:oo—Robert St. Clair. 7:ls—Moke and Fannie. 7:4s—Garden Court harmonists, under the direction of Roy Groves. 11:30—Circle Theater organ.

Best Daylight Features

THURSDAY "WKBF (252) INDIANAPOLIS (Hoosler Athletic Club) A. M. 10:00—Receipts exchange. 10:15—Pana trope. 10:25—Interesting bits of history, courtesy of Indianapolis Public Library. 10:30—WKBF shopping service. 11:30—Livestock and grain market; weather and shippers’ forecast. WFBM (275) INDIANAPOLIS (Indianapolis Power and Light Company) Noon—Correct time, courtesy Julius C. Walk & Son. Lester Hud on the Studio orcan. P. M. 12:80—Livestcok market. Indianapolis and Kansas City; weather report. 3:oo—Play ball with Indians versus St. Paul at Washington Park.

THE JUN iJiAIS TiAiES

OUT OUR WAY

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND lIIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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LESMAN SAM

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MOM ’N POP

I' 80W RAN IHTO a hot IYSY> fOc\ CVE dttt Oh THeX Wi. SAN'. AINONE VOu . BEftXNICK. VOu’D HtNYOauYSS \ i M YTGEET BUT V COUX.BN“rI VKOU NIUCH vNHO'S ABOUT To CO (At INTO BUo. \ SEt >wwt ' T OOCHT MOHEY-TMY Gunns'. iT SEE^STuiSy/. 1 GET Me To '** 6 I T ' Bfe Goo ° ECCENTRIC NiUXONAIRE.DbHGLE.CFItUD,/ / cJiTTu- OUGHT To OEH&M Out- j FOR AT LEAST TOR SO(dli OtkSON iS GOING. T£> / I UFSNE TMST SNvUPS uiTTut CIOL ( V , BUSINESS REASONS /1? Wt CAN dtT OF TUPRS A TEW HUNDRED OIL P-taffl '2 IF NOTUIuQ. ELSE T—x

THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

This wheelbarrow is designed to give as little trouble as possible in making. The wood used in sides, bottom and front is three-fourths inch thick, and is ordinary pine. In the center of the wheel, which is ten inches in diameter, place two two-inch bosses. Their purpose is to keep the wheel from rubbing against the axle-bear-ers. a-i

—By Williams

The axle can be made either of quarter-inch wire or a three-fourths inch birch dowel rod. Bore the hole through the wheel half way from one side, then from the other.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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■§psn Wh Your axle must fit tightly. The wheel is almost sure to be wobbly if you bore the axle-hole straight through, instead of alternating sides, g-i —i ■'■..pi mill/

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAIJCHEK

The two axle-bearers should be eighteen inches long, an inch and a half wide and an inch thick. They can be nailed to the bottom from both Inside the barrel and °i rt * would be stronger if screwed on. Wheel should be fit to axle-bearers before the bearers are screwed to the body. Put a little grease on the axle and your wheelbarrow is ready to work. e-t (Next: A Garden Sea*"

PAGE 9

—By Ahern

—By Martin

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Taylor