Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 126, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 October 1928 — Page 11

OCT. 16, 1928.

CHAPTER XLV “The very thing,” he insisted, “foi a cold night.” While they waited they sat In constrained silence, making conversation with effort that was almost ludicrous. Until finally Sybil shattered the polite discourse- “ Ten years,” she cried; “and wc wer r lovers!” S._e leaned toward him, and she was very lovely in the firelight. She looked younger with her hat off, and more girlish now that her face was flushed. “And we’re talking like a couple of middle-aged fogies,” he countered lightly. “We’ve grown old Sybil.” “I haven’t!” she cried, and her eyes and cheeks were flaming. “You’re extremely provocative,” he remarked evenly. “Tremendously desirable, my dear.” He poked the fire vigorously. “I’m absolutely crazy about you.” “Yes?” Now she was angry. “I never would have dreamed it. Anybody’s think you considered me quite beneath your interest.” He rose to light a cigaret, and stood, when he had done it, with his back to the blaze, his hands deep in his pockets. “Sybil, I hate evasions. What do you want me to do?” CHAPTER XLVI A BOY, knocking discreetly, saved Sybil from answering. He laid a table in front of the fire, white with snowy napery and gleaming with silver. Then the waiter came with a chafing dish and coffee pot, and all the pleasant little hors de’oeuvres on a silver platter. Sybil busied herself with the cups, and when they were alone again put hers down and crossed the room to the big Governor Winthrop desk that stood between the windows. “Is that your financee’s picture, John?” The laughing eyes of the girl in the photograph challenged her gaily Her lips were parted, and her teeth showed white and small and even. Sybil thought she looked like a pretty movie actress, or an advertisement for toothpaste. “She’s awfully attractive,” she said. “The future Mrs. Lawrence, I suppose?” John took the picture and put it in her hands. “Yes. . . . She’s such a good child, Sybil.” They studied the photograph silently for a moment, their heads touching as they bent above the silver frame. “She thinks,” he remarked, “that it’ll be Mrs. Caldwell—Mrs. Roger Caldwell. She’s had cards engraved —announcements, you know Funny, isn’t it?” “You haven’t told her yet?” Ha shbok his head. “No. How could I? I was with you all afternoon.” “She’ll be dreadfully surprised,” murmured Sybil. “Shall you tell her about me. John?” “Oh, Lord, Sybil! I don’t know. Yes, I suppose so. Here, sit down, won’t you? Your coffee’ll be cold. Did you put the in?” £he took the cup from i „ and dabbled at it with her spoon. “Get me a pillow for my back, will you, John? That little puffy one on the divan, please And I don’t believe I want any coffee after all.” He reached for the cup, and bent to slip the pillow beneath her shoulders. From her sleek small head there rose the breath of verbenas. “Sybil,” he toid her sternly, “I’ve a good nind to give you a shampoo.” “Why?” she asked him innocently. “That confounded verbena,” he muttered. “As long as I live I’ll associate it with all the sweetness and all the horror of my whole life. It’s the •’cent of love’s young dream in my nostrils. And it’s the smell of the girl at Maxim’s who darn near drove me crazy.” “It doesn’t make you think of Devens—and the apple orchard?” she asked him softly. “It doesn’t bring back that night on the beach? That night at Wianno when you took me in your arms and kissed me —the first time you’d ever kiSsed me? , “Remember, John?—Oh, my dear, you held me as though you could never let me go! And you buried your face in my hair—and I shook it all down around my shoulders, and you sifted it through your fingers . . . and kissed it.” tt tt tt HE put his hands on her shoulders, and gripped them so tightly that his fingers hurt her soft flesh. “There’s no use—talking like that,” he said. “You’re not playing fair, Sybil.” He tipped her head back, and - kissed her lightly on the mouth. “The reddest, crudest lips in town,” he said. “John!” she protested. “I think you’re horrid!” ‘I think you’re beautiful!” he retorted. “Now eat your chicken like a good girl—and stop your vamping.” "You’re so darn good,” she complained. “You make me sick! I think you don’t care for me any mor<!—not really, I mean.” He put another log on the fire and looked at her quizzically as she „ leaned to rumple his hair over his eyes. “Eo you?” she insisted. “Or don’t you?” Aid in her ears, as she asked, there rang the voice of a wraith in khak. A wraih with blue, blue eyes and a voice as strong and young as a silver trumpet blowing And the wraith was smiling with his eyes. And with his' voice he was crying. “Oh,. Sybil—Sybil, I love you—love you so—forever and ever—ever and forever ” “Never mind,” she said. “You needn’t answer that one Pour me that cup of coffee now, will you John?” She nibbled at caviar, and tasted an anchovy. • tt it tt “r\o you love her very much?” U she asked presently. Then John got up, and stood in front of her. with his hands in the pocket of his trousers and his coat thrown back. And the firelight danced on his blond hair as the sun at Devens had danced so long, long <ago . . . and Sybil clasped her *

hands in her lap to keep them quiet. “Kitty,” he told her quietly, “is ny salvation. I haven’t many illusions left about love, Sybil. . . . Loving a girl like Kitty isn’t at all like loving a woman like you. . . . Kitty is a good girl. I think I •ather worship her. I want trenendously to make her happy. I want to shelter her from everything that is ugly and might hurt her. “She’s a steadying little girl—a sort of compass to help me hold my course. There’s more loyalty and confidence in Kitty Burns’ little finger than I ever saw in any ten women in all my life!” “And so,” interrupted Sybil smiling at the conceit, “you’d rather have a compass than a guiding star?”' “I’d rather have Kitty,” he told her solemnly, “than any woman on earth. . . . Love is a strange thing, Sybil. I’ve loved a lot of women. Before this I always wanted something for myself. Now I only want to give.”

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Tony and Crystal, who had just done their duty demurely and charmingly in the matter of serving iced drinks to the bridge players, and to that queerly unmatched couple, Mile. Dumont and Prof. Arkwright, now sat close beside each other in a corner of the Tarver drawing room, where they could observe the three tables of card devotees, yet whisper together, without being overheard. They were mercifully giving Mile. Dumont a temporary rest from their subtle hazing. “What are you looking so somber about, Tony?” Crystal asked her chum suddenly. “I think the scheme’s working beautifully—” “Oh, yes—the scheme,” Tony admitted. “I wasn’t thinking of it for the moment. Know what I was doing, Crystal? ... I was drawing some more painful conclusions on the subject of marriage. “Look at ’em,” and she nodded toward the three tables of bridge players. “All of Peg’s guests are married, except Mam’selle and Prof. Arkwright. And I was just thinking after looking this bunch over, that maybe the fair Eloise is so dumb, after all.” “Tony!” Crystal gasped. “You don’t mean that you admire Mam’selle for being the sort of person she is!” “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose not. But looking at this exhibit of husbands and wives makes me even more dead sure that I don’t want to be married, ever,” Tony answered gloomily. “They’re all nice people, much nicer thari Mam’selle,” Crystal protested. “That’s just it,” Tony conceded eagerly. “They are nice people, all except that odious Jeff Hemingway. Ntce people separately, but not as married couples.” “Tony!” Crystal gasped again,

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Grants defeat of Horace Greeley,- and the dire forecast of financial straits In 1873 are described in this chnpter of "The Presidential Parade.” Rodney Dutcliers series reviewing presidential politics from Washinßton's day to our own. BY RODNEY DUTCHER NEA Service Writer

. f copy right, 1928. by NEA Service, InC.) ASHINGTON, Oct. 16.—The corruption of the first Grant administration had become such a stench in the national nostrils by 1872 that many Republican leaders left the party. They put up a liberal Republican ticket against Grant, and the Democrats, for the first and last time, indorsed a Republican nominee. If the candidate had been anyone but the wild-eyed Horace Greeley, the combination might have won. The corruption in Grant’s two administrations never has been equaled. In 1872 there was much more

to come, but 1869 had seen Black Friday, when the notorious Jay Gould, with the help of the treasury and Grant’s brother-in-law, had tried to corner the gold market, ruining all sorts of people. Grant was surprisingly obtuse in vigorously defending his friends against public opinion when they turned out to be rascals. There were great public land frauds, accompanied by corruption of Indian agents. Graft held full sway in federal offices and machine bosses became wealthy. The thick-headed Grant was accepting jewels, horses and other valuable presents from the grafters, though historians say he was personally honest.

Greeley Nominated Every one expected the Democrats to support the ticket, and some of them had promised to do so if they could have a good candidate. Adams and Greeley were the two contenders and western Democrats sent word they wouldn’t take Adams, so Greeley got it before the convention leaders could concentrate on another man. Brown won second place. Grant Charged With Graft The platform charged Grant with taking gifts in exchange for offices, demanding civil service and other reforms and opposed further land grants to railroads and other corporations. Greeley’s nomination aroused derision. He had many noble qualities and had been an exceptionally brilliant Republican editor, but his erraticistn and lack of cool Judgment, coupled with his hunger for office, vjere proverbial. A few bolters demanded a regular ticket and met at Louisville to nominate Charles O’Connor of New York, who refused, but was not heeded. The Liberal bolt had solidified the standpat Republicans behind Grant, although other candidates had wasted money on southern delegates, and Vice-President Colfax, later tarred with the corruption brush, had been ’ a candidate of the corporations. The harmonious convention met at Philadelphia, nominating Grant and Senator Henry Wilson of Massachusetts -after the Washing-

Sybil nodded. “I think,” she said, "that you love her very much.” Then they sat in silence, until the fire had died down, so that they found themselves in a flickering dark. . , . And then John spoke from the shadows. “How you had lovers, Sybil? . . . Ah, Sweet, forgive me, dear. . . . You're so maddeningly wise, you lovely thing.” He came and stood before her, and taking her wrists in his hands, drew her to her feet. “The man is an icjiot,” he said tensely, “who lets his mind rule his heart. ' When the gods send love, only fools refrain. . . . Sybil, I’m crazy about you. Ah, Sybil—your lips, dear?” Coldly she drew from his aching arms. “Don’t!” she said. (To Be Continued)

staring at her chum wide-eyed. “Oh, “don’t act so ingenue-ish!” Tony snapped. “You know you love being shocked. Os ail the six married couples in this room I’ll bet the Hathaways are tfle only pair that really likes being married, and they have only served a year and a half of their life sentence. “And even Bob Hathaway doesn’t seem as much like a lover as my husband would have to be. It's always the woman who stays romantically in love long after the husband has settled down to taking marriage and his wife and his home for granted, as his natural rights and nothing to keep excited about. “That, at least, is what happens in the not-so-bad marriages. In the majority of cases, husbands and wives long married act as if they hate each other.” And the bluediamond eyes brooded somberly upon the cases under immediate observation. “For instance?” Crystal challenged, a little hurt becaus’e Tony had snapped at her. “There's no use putting Peg and Pat on the pan again,” Tony answered. “You know as well as I do how bad things are in this house, and neither Peg nor Pat really to blame. “But take Faith and Bob Hathaway, for instance, as the most happily married couple here. Faith's eyes follow Bob everywhere he goes, every time he opens his mouth. A blind man could see that she adores the ground he walks on. “Oh, he loves her, too, but you don’t see him straining his eyes to watch her. ‘She's there—fine!’ he says. ‘Bless her heart! finest little woman in the world, glad I married her!’ But he sees me—oh, in a perfectly nice and flattering way, but Faith actually doesn’t see anyone else than Bob.” (To Be Continued)

ton correspondents had formed a successful cabal against renomination of Colfax. The platform whitewashed the administration and frowned on corruption. For a time it seemed that Greeley might have a chance, but the great commercial, Industrial and financial interests, all up to their necks in post-war inflation, saw the terrible panic of 1873 looming ahead. Choose Lesser of Evils The became frightened at the thought of Greeley at the head of the government in such a crisis and by late summer they had begun to swing the tide toward Grant. Many citizens figured likewise and accepted Grant as the lesser of two evils. Grant carried thirty-one states. Carpet-baggers still ruled much of the south, but Grant didn’t need them. Greeley had only Georgia, Kentucky, Missouri and Texas, losing his own New York, where he had many enemies. The popular and electoral vote: Popular. Electoral. Grant 3,597,000 286 Greeley 2,834,000 63 The Prohibitiqn and Labor Reform parties appeared at this election, having nominated James Black of Pennsylvania and Charles O’Connor, respectively. The Prohibitionists polled 5,000 votes. The Labor party, with a platform considered frightfully radical then, drew 25,000 votes. NEXT: In the Depths of Political Degradation.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

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OUT OUB WAY

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BKtXCHES BX BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BP BKAUCHER

PAGE 11

—By Williams

—By Martin

Bv Blossor

By Ctvir

By Siu ill

By Cowan