Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 97, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 September 1928 — Page 8

PAGE 8

r THIS HAS HAPPENED ' BYRII. THORNE, Boston society girl, Concludes a whirlwind romance by marrying on shipboard in Harana harbor— man whom she has known just five days—RICHARD EUSTIS, dangerous and fascinating. With MABEL BLAKE, a social worker, Bybil left Boston for a trip to the tropics, to try to rcac'- a decision rcEarding CRAIG NEWHALL, to whom she as been engaged for some months. Newhall is a young and wealthy bachelor, but Sybil, years ago, fell desperately in love with a soldier, JOHN LAWRENCE. When Lawrence was reported missing In action Sybil took a solemn vow never to tell another man she loved him. It Was to please her fp.ther, who was very 111, that she consented to marry Craig Newhall. But when her father died she began to question the wisdom of her promise. Then, after the marriage of ter brother TAD to VALERIE REST, a frivolous and selfish girl, Sybil, uterly miserable, tells Craig she is going to Cuba for a rest and peace of mind. Richard Eustis is aboard, and Sybil finds neither rest nor peace. Austis makes wild love to her, but not until the last night of the trip does he ask her to marry him. He tejls her that he does not believe in marriage, -nd that It kills love: but in order to have her. he would do anything on earth. In a mad moment, Sybil consents. fin their wedding night, strolling down he Prado. Richard offends his bride. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XVIII SYBIL drew her breath sharply. “Oh, Rich,” 'he protested, “you don’t want to drink any more tonight.” “Why not, darling?” Good-naturedly he coaxed. “We’ll fjust drop round to ’Sloppy Joe’s. You’ve no idea how interesting it is, dear. Life in the raw—jockeys and gamblers and all their fancy ladies.” She shrugged distastefully, and her voice was cool and distant. “If you wish,” she conceded icily, fend they walked in silence down the gay promendate. The crowd at Joe’s was loud and boisterous, so that Sybil drew back is they reached the corner. “Don’t go in,” she begged. “It s too noisy.” But Richard, pleasantly expanItfve, would have his way. “Just one little drink, dear. You and I topressed her arm persuasively. (“Whoever heard of a honeymoon toithout a champagne cocktail?” But it was bacardi he ordered when they had found seats at the jprowded bar. “Presidentes!” he called, and turned again to Sybil, “I want you to try these, dear. They’re the kickiest things in Cuba.” And when the bartender shook them up and set’them forth, f nothing icily, he ordered, “Mix us up another.” .. . . “Richard Eustis, you said just “Well, dearest, J don’t get marfried every day; I guess you’re going to let me celebrate tonight, aren’t you? You’ll like this drink, Sib. Here’s happiness, sweetheart! Fill ’em up again, boy.” tt tt tt MABEL had left them after dinner. “I’ve some letters to ■write,” she explained. “Oh, Mab, you’re only trying to be tactful.” “Stick around,” Richard urged her good-naturedly. “The night’s young yet.” But she left them before 10 o’clock. Dinner had been served in their suite. Now it was after midnight. “Rich,” Sybil implored, her voice Close to tears, “you must come now.” She clutched his arm, until, unsteadily, he gained his feet. “If you say I must,” he condeded, **l s’pose I must. But, Sib, ol’ girl, I’d like ’nother li’l drink.” It was only a few minutes back to their hotel. “Now, darling,” he suggested, as they reached the lobby, “you go ahead, and I’ll be up in a few minutes. “You’re not going to have anything else to drink, Richard,” she demanded, and her voice was hard and sharp as he had never heard it before. “My God, Sybil, you talk like jsomebody'6 maiden aunt!” ’ He put his arm about her shoulders and laughed mockingly. “Only a nightcap, darling. It will make pie feel better. I’ll be right along.” “You needn’t bother,” she informed him huskily, and holding her head high, rang savagely for the elevator. “Listen, sweetheart.” Contritely he sought to detain her. “I’m dreadfully sorry, but I’ve a spitting headache. That’s the only reason I .want a drink. Sybil, you don’t think 1 want to get drunk tonight, do you! Why, darling, I’ve been dreaming about this . ..” > “Here's the elevator,” she interropted. and stepped into the little gilded cage. a a a FT'WENTY minutes later there was a gentle knock at her bedjroom door. “The prodigal bridegroom!” cried fa, loud, glad voice, and Richard bent to kiss her. r “Darling! You’ve been crying!” He kissed her soft, wet face. “Why, Sybil—Sybil dear—you mustn’t. JTears simply lacerate me.” He found his handkerchief, and jfcried to wipe them all away. Shuddering she turned from him. “Please,” she implored, “go away.” But he sat on the side of her bed, and stroked her forehead and her hair. When she had grown quieter he put his arms about her. And so the night passed. a tt a THE sun was streaming through the broad windows that front the Prado when Richard, tossing (restlessly, opened his eyes and groaned. “Oh, my head!” Sybil, at the desk, turned and 'contemplated him remotely. “You look,” she volunteered, “like the wrath of God,” and bent again to the paper on which she wrote. Once the pen point stuck, and ink spattered on the whiteness of the Sevilla’s crested stationery. She murmured detachedly, and then he heard her pen go scratchIngly determinedly on. Scratch.. Scratch. Like tacks ripping his brain apart. He raised himself on one elbow end surveyed her uncertainly. “Please,” he asked humbly, “pull that curtain, will you, Sybil? The Bun’s right in my eyes.” She adjusted it, and with her back to the bed, told him, “I’m going out for breakfast with Mabel.” “You’re not going to leave me like this?” “I’ll ask the clerk to send someone up.

“But I’m a sick man, Sybil.” He moaned with great fervor. “God, I’m sick!” “I am very sorry, Rich.” He raised himself in bed. Put his head on his knees, and cradled his body with his arms, rocking back and forth. “I don’t believe you know how rotten I feel dear,” he moaned. “I begged you not.to drink last night,” she reminded him coolly. “I know you did, darling.” “You—you were horrid to me ” Her voice broke on a sob. “Was I, Sib? Oh, Lord!” He broke off to resume his rocking. “What a head! Ring for some ice water, will you? And get me some more of that aspirin.” Dutifully she rang, and dutifully pried the tight little lid from the box of tablets. “Will two be enough?” she asked dispassionately, and when he had taken them, she started toward the door. “If you knew how sick I am you wouldn’t walk out on me like this,” he objected miserably. “Oh, yes I would. I just what I’m doing.” “You’re not angry, Sib?” “Angry? Oh, no,”—there was a world of scorn in her tone—“l’m awfully happy.” “I’m sorry, dear. Honestly, I am.” He tried to reach her hand. “It was a wretched thing to do.” tt tt tt SHE crossed the big room to long mirror; powdered her nose* from the vanity that hung about her neck, and touched her lips with a crimson stick. Poked a bit of hair up under the little pink hat she wore, and turned to look coldly at her husband. “I’ll drop in later to see how you are.” “Sybil!” He jumped from the bed and held her by the shoulders. “I’ve told you I'm sorry. What else do you expect me to do? Shed a lot of crocodile tears and grovel at your feet? It isn’t my fault that I'm sick, is it?” She shrugged with dainty disgust. “See here, Sib —you wouldn’t go back on me the very day after we’re married? Oh, Lord, darling—l’m crazy about you. You know I am. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, sweetheart. I’m too sick to talk.” tt tt tt “Getting sick's nothing,” she told him airily. “I’m not angry because you’re sick. But getting drunk on your wedding night. ...” She pressed her handkerchief to her mouth, and sought the mirror again, to hide her t ars. “It was beastly of me, darling.” “Oh, Rich, you were h-horrid!” Suddenly she was in his arms—

THE NEW Saint-Sinner ByJlnneJlustin c i9aa iy MA smia. inc.

It was well past dinner time when the Tarvers, father and daughter, drove under the pretentious porte cochere of “The Elms.” Pat and her father both secretly hooted at the porte cochere and the name. But a porte cochere and a house with a name had been Mrs. Tarver’s goal for years, and nothing could so easily bring the sniffles from her as ridicule about them from her husband or daughter/ - But somehow both the porte cochere and the Gothic lettered sign made Tony wince a little. Poor Peg! Would she learn only at a fearful price? And what would that price be? Peg awaited them on the sun porch as they came from the garage, for Tony insisted on “tucking my own car in bed and hearing its prayers myself.” It was plain that Peg was at her worst. Tony noticed that her mother had come from the beauty parlor with all that havoc upon her which ofaly Peg seemed able to wrench from an emporium of beauty. Her hair had been retinted. Peg scorned “women who dye their hair,” and her way of describing that process which transformed her gray-red locks into a flaming aureole was that she had “let the girl use a little elixir—just to tone it up.” Peg had had her eybrows plucked into girlish twin crescents. Her weekly pack had whitened and softened her skin, but it hung in little folds and pouches. Her nails were as red as those of a Nubian maid stained with beetel juice. Her large mouth had been made into a “sweet sixteen >’ Cupid’s bow and the half moons of rouge on her too-white cheeks were matched by the ingenuish dab on her chin. Both Tony and her father knew that Mrs. Tarver resented their intimacy—that she was never so illtempered as when confronted with a companionship in which she did not share. “About time you were showing up!” she said, shaking her amethyst drop earrings while her ample bosom heaved her pent-up words. “Dick Talbot waited for you for hours, Tony. First thing you know you’ll lose that young; man—” Pat broke in at this; “And what if she does? Guess no young fellow’s obliged to wait on Tony if he doesn’t want to!” “Well, I’ve put the engagement tea invitations in the mail,” went on Peg, “and you’ve got no idea what a busy—” “Mother!” exclaimed Tony despairingly, “you didn’t—you wouldn’t interfere like that!” “Oh, so it’s interfering, is it?” Righteous anger sprang to the blue eyes of Mrs. Tarver. “I guess it’s always the girl’s mother who announces her engagement, ain’t it? And I guess you’re engaged, ain’t you?” The high, outraged tone gave way tc the usual plaintive, whimpering one. “That’s right—it’s always the same. I do what’s right, and work myself half to death fd- you—and what thanks do I get? ‘lnterfering!’ she says to her mother. And 200 invitations I got out today. May-

crying, struggling, caressing.'’ , “Sybil—Sybil darling!” “Oh, Rich! Let me go.” “Do you still love me, Sib? Say you love me, dear.” “I—l—don’t know.” “Poor little girl.'’ He kissed her tears, and rocked her gently. Her hat fell to the floor, and he smoothed her hair tenderly. In an agony of self-re-proach he castigated himself. “I ought to get shot! Sib, don’t cry, dear. You break my heart. To think I made you cry! What a thing I turned out to be! Finest little girl in the world. And I’m nothing but a big brute.” it tt FINALLY she stopped him. Put her fingers over his mouth, and drew his head down. “All right, Richie boy. Give me a nice kiss, and we’ll put you on probation.” In the mirror across the room Sybil glimpsed her red eyes, and shiny little nose. “See me!” she moaned, “all swollen and homely in, front of my new husband.” “You’re beautiful!” he contradicted, and kissed her tears away. “Oh, darling, I’m not fit to touch you—not worthy to kiss your little feet.” She laughed at his humility. “When the devil was sick,” she reminded him, “the devil a saint would be. When the devil was well, the devil a saint was he!” and, laughing, she sat on his knee, and rumpled his hair. “You’re not going to have breakfast with Mab?” he questioned her anxiously, like a child begging forgiveness. “No, darling. I’m going to have it with my loving husband.” “Sweetheart!” “And I’m going out now to buy a bouquet from that old flower woman over on the corner. See Rich—isn’t she precious? The one with the big checked apron and the long ear-rings. I’ll get a boutonniere for you and a corsage for me and some flowers for the table. And you be all bathed and shaved and everything by the time I get back. Hurry up now, or I might get mad again.” “Mrs. Legree!” “Do you feel better, dear?” “Better? I’m on top of the world!” Gaily he hummed a snatch of song—“ Sitting on top of the world—” “Good-by, darling. Hurry back.” When she had gone he crossed the room shakily and reached for the telephone. (To Be Continued) (How does Richard act on probation? More honeymoon episodes in the next chapter.)

be if you had been home where you belonged you would have had something to say about them. But no, you and—” But Tony could endure it no longer. She turned and fled toward the house. (To Be Continued) RELIGIOUS PEACE AIM t OF GENEVA CONCLAVE Representatives of Many Churches and Races at Parley. By United Pros GENEVA, Sept. 12.—Perhaps the most serious effort in the history of the world for universal religious peace will have its official inception here today. One hundred representatives of almost every religiofl. race and country in the world for the next three days will prepare the plans of a universal religious peace conference, to be held in 1930. • Ultimate effort of this conference will not be so much that of church unity, but rather to arrive at a basis of mutual understanding and collaboration in the broader sense of religion. SAVED AND ARRESTED Autoist Barely Escapes Death in River, to Land in Jail. Bn United Frees • NEW ORLEANS, Sept. 12.—An auto driven by Paul Kauthier, 27, plunged over an embankment down twenty feet into a drainage canal here. As the car was slowly sinking into the mire at the bottom of the canal bed, Gauthier managed to open the door and climb to safety, only to be arrested for reckless driving when he had regained the street. SMALLPOX IS ON WANE England Only Country in Europe to Show Increase. By United Press GENEVA, Sept. 12.—Smallpox in European countries has markedly decreased during the last few years, according to a report just issued by the Health Organization of the League of Nations. Great Britain is the single exception, there being a steady increase in the number of cases officially reported since 1920. Find Bones of Monster By Times Special PORTLAND, Ind., Sept. 12. Bones of a prehistoric monster, believed a mastodon, have been found in a gravel pit west of here. The teeth measure about five inches across the flat side. They are well preserved. Request More Mailmen Bn Times Special GARY, Ind., Sept. 12.—Request for six additional mail carriers for Gary has been forwarded to the postoffice department at Washington by A. S. Hess, Gary postmaster.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

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OUR BOARDING HOUSE

—By Williams

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Then, ringing throughout the land, came Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation, freeing all the slaves. LinThe war continued. co | n hac j on | y one thought during all the dark years he bitterly fought, with itelci office—to save the Union. “If I could do it, withdeeds of heroism and out freeing any slave," he wrote to a friend, "I would sacrifice shared equally do T h a t, but what I am doing, I co to help save the by the soldiers of the Union.” (Vo Be Continued) northandsoutlr^^j9M2^

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAUCHEK

.SEPT. 12, 1928

—By Ahern

—By Martin

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Tayior