Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 93, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 September 1928 — Page 28

PAGE 28

THIS HAS HAPPENED SYBIL THORNE, social butterfly, finds lierselt courted on shipboard *>y a fascinating and dangerous lover, RICHARD EIJSTIS. Subconsc-iusly Sybil Is seeking romance, and Tiichard, with his mad, modern notio ,s, very nearly sweeps her oil her 'feet. Her own love life has been tragic. When she was 1* she fell desperately in love with a young soldier, JOHN LAWRENCE, who never returned from France. Several years later, when all Boston society is talking of her indiscretions, CRAIG NEWHALL, most popular bachelor in the city, asks her to marry him. In order to please her father, who is very ill. Sybil becomes engaged to NewhaU. But her father dies. And then TAD, her adored brother, is married to VALERIE WEST, an inconsequential thing whom Sybil instinctively distrusts. Hopelessly at sea, Sybil decides to take a trip with MABEL BLAKE, a social worker admittedly anxious to get m On if the boat they meet Rich Eustis, whom Mabel promptly seeks to annex. But Eustis has fallen violently in love W They y *taik of marriage and Richard tells Sybil that she would make a Wl “You're "not stupid enough.” he !nSKT I^too”^?- % u rt"st night at sea he seems to forget his cynicism and “vcomes SUr RoW GO ON d WITH THE SWRY CHAPTER XIV “QYBIL.” iJ Richard put both hands on her shoulders, and held her at arms length. “Will you marry me, Sybil?” “Richard Eustis!” “Will you, Sybil?” “But Richard,” she cried. “You don’t know what you're saying. You ! don’t believe in marriage.” i “No,” he told her firmly, “I don’t. : But I want you. I want you so ‘ much that it seems as though I : could not live without you.” “But, Rich ...” She faltered | helplessly. “You’ve only known me five days. You—you—you’ve let 1 emotion sweep you away. Rich. ' You don't really want to marry me. 1 “Marriage is positive anathema to , you. You’ve said so loads of times, j You’d hate me if I married you. i And—besides—l don’t want to. I i loathe all your ideas about love and ■ marriage. I think they’io simply I sickening. I—l—wouldn’t marry (you for the world. I’ve told you so i hundreds of times.” i She was remembering what he ihad said the night before. ... Love '< was a physical thing. | And he had shrugged his shoulders in that disdainful way he had, ' indicating that, whatever it was, , it could not by any means interest him. “You make me sick,” Sybil had retorted. “You’re perfectly dreadful.” “No darling.” He had shaken his head wisely. “Only sane and very candid. All men love in the same fashion. The rest are hypocritical about it.”

NOW she faced him solemnly. “I can’t understand you, Richard,” she said, and her voice was cool as the moonlight. “You are unalterably opposed to marriage. Your nature demands that your life shall be perpetual love. And you believe that you could not love any woman except transiently. How can you then be willing to make a legal contract to love me as long as I shall live? You don’t even believe in fidelity.” “But all that,” he cried, “was before I knew you!” She smiled gravely. “Oh, no,” she said. “Five little days and anew experience have not changed you at all—not basically. You have an absolute obsession regarding marriage. You believe that it murders love. That Once you fetter romance, you have killed it. Then why are you asking me to marry you?” “Because,” he told her bluntly, “it’s the only way I can get you.” “Oh! Oh!” she cried, and beat his chest with her fists. “I hate you. I hate you!” “But you’re going to marry me,” he retorted. The moon shone full on his face. His skin was very pale. It seemed almost translucent. On one cheek there was a scarlet mark where her lips had brushed it. And his lips, from her kisses, were crimson. His hair had fallen across his forehead. Blonde hair, beautiful in the moonlight. “Darling,” he begged, “let’s not talk like two people in a book. 'Don’t try to make me feel like a villain on the stage.” “Your asinine conceit,” she told him scornfully, “is positively sickening.” ‘Conceit!’ ” he cried. “You call it conceit because I dare to say you want me? Sybil, do you know anything about Walt Whitman? He ;wrote a poem once. ‘A Woman Waits for Me.’ There are these lines in it. They’ve always stood out in my mind because I believe so firmly in the truth of them: ‘Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex. Without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers.’ ” “Walt Whitman!” she repeated scornfully. “He’s the dirtiest creature I ever knew.” ‘“The Good Gray Poet’ men called him.” he reminded her, and, capturing her hands, began again to talk of love.

“SWEETHEART!” he implored, ij “you know I’m crazy about you. I can’t make pretty speeches tonight. But I’ve done something I never meant to do. I’ve begged something of you no other woman on earth could wring from me.. I'm on my knees, Sybil, beseeching you to marry me “There’s not a concession on earth I wouldn’t make to you, dearest—Legality. Respectability. Bah, I make hiyself sick!—Like a lovesick bumpkin I crave your hand in honorable marriage. See, Sybil!” He dropped to his knees, and clasping hers with his arms, cradled' his face against her legs. “I should think,” she told hiir icily, “that you would appreciate the need of keeping your independence for the sake of other remantic adventures. Why write ‘finis' after this one?” She took his elbows in her hands* “Get up please, Rich . . . Please. Come sit in our deck chairs.” a a ONCE she thought he had gone yj to sleep. ... The watch changed and men walked past their chairs. A bell rang. And, by and by, a little breeze stirred, so that she shivered in her dress of thin stuff. But when she moved, he put out

his hand to keep her. And presently he got up and found a robe and tucked it about her. “It’s almost dawn,” she said. “I don’t know what Mab will think. I ought to go.” “But I can’t let you go,” he groaned. “We’ve got to straighten this thing out.” Fifteen minutes later he spoke again. “We’re going over this from the beginning,” he told her. "And I’m going to try to be truthful with you. Men are never truthful with women, any more than women are absolutely truthful with men. But I shall try to be honest. And I want you to be as fair with me, Sybil. Will you?” “Yes,” she promised meekly, “I’ll try.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the morning star. “See, darling.” He pointed. “How dim it grows as dawn’s pale i!r.ger~ come creeping up the sky. Shall we stay until the sun comes up and the last star’s gone?” “I don’t know what Mab will say,” she faltered. “The devil with Mab!” he muttered, and throwing back his long blonde hair, began his favorite subect. “The trouble with marriage,” he proclaimed, “is this there’s no sense in physical attraction—no rime por reason. It’s blind as a bat. People mistake a powerful physical attraction for love, and so they get married, and expect the thing to last. That’s idiotic.” “Listen to me,” she directed, “I’ve a few ideas on the subject myself. I quite agree with you on the importance of honestly. I believe that if love could be honestly discussed, there’d be a great deal more happiness. I think that every human relation should be based on decent understanding. There is never any harmony unless there is understanding. “I was going to say that we bring all our little deceptions and prideful follies, about which we’ve builded all our lives, right on to love and marriage. And that, of course, is disastrous. That’s why marriage

“Hello, beautiful lady!” said Pat to his daughter Tony, and’with his greeting Tony knew that the shadow of the woman with whom he had lunched was between ’them, and that nothing real would be said and Pat would not be really Pat until that shadow had been dispelled. “Hello, handsome father,” said Tony, “have a chair and your best friend and severest critic’ll order you some of these heavenly little marron cakes. You’re past the age when your waistline matters —lucky for you.” Tony had cruelly added that final line. But her heart writhed when her father’s flush told that it had hit its mark. “Why did Mademoiselle Eloise rush away so soon?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her since I left school. I wanted to ask her about the other teachers and so many of the girls.” “She was sorry, too, but she had an appointment,” said Pat, still avoiding Tony’s eyes. He was obviously relieved when the marron cakes arrived. “Black coffee, too, please,” he told the waitress, while Tony waited. “Is she still teaching at Bradley?” Tony asked' trying to make her voice casual. Pat obviously was relieved that Tony had taken the helm of the conversation. “No, she left there over two years ago; she’s teaching French and playing the market here. That’s how it al started—” he flushed at his slip and was silent. “You mean, father," Tony went on, "you’re taking lessons from her and helping her with her investments? How nice!" Pat gave her a quick look, for the sarcasm in Tony’s voice was unmistakable. “My own French isn’t so good.” Tony went on mercilessly, “and I wouldn’t mind a few lessons myself. Or is her clientele very select ?” Tony could have bitten her tongue out as soon as it was said. She was only thankful that she had stopped before adding “and limited only to the stronger sex?” This was no way to handle a father. Poor tired old Pat needed help, not censure! What chance would confidences have if she got sarcastic? But Pat had turned the trick himself. Suddenly he had turned about, squarely facing her, his eyes on hers, one big hand over her smell twitching one. “Tony, daughter, I want to talk with you. Will you ditch any afternoon plans and drive your old Pop around a little? Guess my i widgets can go on being made with- ! out me.” “At your service, Dad,” said Tony, though her heart leaped to think

Length of Beard Fixes Death Hour of Murders

French • Detectives Find New Methods to Aid Crime Solution. Bn United Press PARIS, Sept. 7.—One-fifth of a millimetre of a man’s beard is sufficient for the police of Paris to fix within a few minutes the hour of his suicide, murder or death by natural causes. This is the amazing revelation of no less an expert than Dr. Balthazard, professor of medical legislation, and is confirmed by Messrs. Bayle, Payen and Ruby, the three principal experts of the French Bertillon service. M

flounders. Lack of honest understanding. “You can’t expect compatibility if you haven’t understanding. And incompfftibility is back of every divorce. Back of infidelity, and the thing that masquerades as ‘cruel and abusive treatment.’ Back of desertion and nonsupport—back of everything that takes men and women to courts, to throw dirt, and cry for freedom. Men and women who loved each other!” a a yt WHEN she stopped for breath he laughed at her seriousness. “Darling,” he bragged mockingly, “I’m the only man who’s ever been perfectly honest with you. I have thrown discretion to the winds, and begged you to marry me. “But I’m not telling you, Sybil, that my life will be ruined if I can not make you listen to me. For there are other women as beautiful, and other women as charming. “But you’re here. And I’m here. And, oh, my dear, you’d search the wide world over before you’d find a man who could love you so.” “Richard,” she assured him solemnly, “I’m sure you’re crazy.” “Listen, darling,” he besought her. “Did you know the captain could marry us-,-here in the harbor?” “Look, Rich!” Shrilly she interrupted him. “Morro Castle through the mists. Over there beyond the fog! Oh, Rich, isn’t it thrilling!” “ ‘Thrilling!’ ” he snapped. “And now,” she told him calmly, “I’m going down and take me a shower, so I won’t look like a wreck And I’ll see you on deck in 15 minutes. I’ll bring Mab up with me. And we’ll ask John Arnold to go ashore with us—shall we?” “Darling,” moaned Richard, and turned his back on Morro Castle, “there are times when I could slap your pretty face. But you’re going to marry me today, so I’ll hide my wicked temper.” (To Be Continued) (Plenty of surprises in the next chapter. Sybil—Richard—Mabel —everyone seems to have gone quite crazy.)

of what was to be demanded of her as a daughter—not only Pat's daughter, but dear, dumpy Peg’s daughter, too. Tony always laughed to see Pat in the little leaf green roadster he had given her on her twentieth birthday. “You look just like a Rumpelstiltskin in a pumpkin shell,” she told him now, trying to bring a livelier note into the atmosphere as she threaded her way in and out of downtown Stanton traffic. “Where to, passenger?” she asked. But there was no answer. Pat’s eyes were glued on the road ahead. It was plain that he was absorbed in thought, so without protest Tony turned the car toward The Corners —the funny little town where the Tarvers had gone for Sunday picnics years before. (To Be Continued) FOUR FINEDJ-OR RIOT Air Story of Resort Brawl in Court. The story of a riot at Ravens wood, river resort north of the city, was told in municipal court Thursday. The riot, which occurred July 23, was the result of anger of residents of other river resorts at the efforts of Ravenswood officials to make non-residents pay for using the beach, it was said. Charges of assault and battery, resisting arrest, drunkenness aijd. vagrancy against Roy Wise, Island Park, were dismissed. John Wise, a brother, 1749 Olive St., was fined $lO for intoxication. Earl Wise, a cousin, Island Park, was fined $25 for assault and battery and $lO for intoxication and Earl Masten, Island Park, and Chester Wise, 1749 Olive St., were fined $lO for intoxication. Favors Hoover 1. i Everyone who hopes for contin- ..... 11 uation of prosit vgSgljt lierity is for Hoov ' W i er, said MortiJ mer L. Schi ff, New York finan£9 cier, when he returned from Eu- >■ f/li£ called Hoover Ilk iO>pfi “singularly well equipped for the PlllL Hi presidency of the . Schiff United States.”

After months of investigation, they have discovered that the beard of the average man grows at that rate each hour. By tracing the movements of a man during the period immediately preceding his death, and especially the time when he either shaved himself or visited his barber, the intervening period can now be calculated to a remarkable nicety. The long series of measurements obtained, most of which were among prisoners, seem to discount the old theory that one’s hair grows faster during the night than in daytime. They also show that there is only rare foundation for the idea that hirsute development continues after death.

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Now (in '.046, began a series of battles Taylor, wifi, 5000 men. beat back the Mexicans. American arms were always successful. At Palo Alto ' \ s O' CTwrAj Meanwhile Scott marched into Mexico City. Mexico General Taylor defeated a larger force of Mexicans and r , w,:+u was helpless now and made peace, giving up all claim chased them across the Rio Grande. Monterey was men lan’dpd at The M® x ' can general, to Texas and another huge strip of land for $15,000,captured. Taylor, on his famous horse, “Whitey,” v ' - an+llror | *u- Santa Ana, hearing Tay- 000. From this territory the states of California, Utah, was the guiding spirit of the campaign. Part of Tay- and ’ J* . * nwuar H lor’s force had been split, Nevada and parts of New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado lor’s forces were sent to reinforce General Scott. 9-7 the eanital ,ec * 20,000 men against and Wyoming, were formed. (To Be Continued) | *£*, TVfcuh Special Pmuton oI the PubJ.eKep of The Book of Knowtedge. Copyright. tmmmm mmmbhmmhhmhmhim at Blieiia VjSta. and

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SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAUCHES

ISilirT. 7, 1926

—By Ahern

—By Martin

—By Blosser

Bv ( 't -me

—By Small

—By Tayioif