Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 75, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 August 1929 — Page 11

AUG. 7, 1929-

OUT OUR WAY

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PkJIWH INUsXALENT / ELEA/YOUI EARLY O 1929 “By AJtA j<rv.ce l^

THIS HAS HAPPENED MOLLY BURNHAM, misquoted by reporters. Is In all kinds of trouble. With the premiere of her starting play. "The Death of Delphlne Darrows," Molly has acqulrred national fame. Newspaper people, clamoring for news, decide that she Is In love with RED FLNN, a police court reporter and co-author of her plav. They write a story to that effect, anticipating an early marriage. Asa matter of fact. Molly Is In love —not with Red—but with JACK WELLS, a poor young architect. Jack reads the stories that presuppose Red to be the lucky man. and is furiously hurt and angry. Molly, before she has seen the papers, telephones to ask him to take her to luncheon. He retorts that she has made a fool of him long enough, and hangs up the receiver. Then Red Flvnn telephones from Boston. Red has seen the papers, too, and he Is also upset. He begs Molly to be discreet, and says he Is writing her. "Don't do anything.” he begs, ‘until you've heard from me.” ___ NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXIV (Continued.) The next day Red’s letter came. And also a note from the dean at college, who had advised her not to try to combine marriage with a career. The dean wondered polite- I ly if Miss Burnham would be kind ' enough to return for commence- j ment, to speak to the graduating class. There was a letter, too, from Rita, begging Molly to go to see her. Rita was ill, and worried. She hadn’t been herself since the baby was born. Besides, Molly had never seen her little daughter. She was the loveliest baby in the world. Having a child was quite as satisfying as having a career, declared Rita. But she was overjoyed for Molly, and so proud of her success. “I'll run up to Boston to visit Rita and go to commencement,” decided Molly. “There’ll be plenty of time before I sail.” She had saved Red’s letter until the last. Now she opened it slowly, fearful of what it might tell her. CHAPTER XXV RED had written from his desk in the press room at the courthouse, on the typewriter that had no capital M. And he had written hurriedly, and in excitement. Red always dashes when he was tearing off a good story. And then it had to be re-wTitten in the office, because they couldn't use a story lull of —s iii the paper. The moment Molly glanced at it, she knew that he was in one of his excitable moods. “Dear molly,” he began, “maybe you think I acted pretty strange over the phone just nowbut that’s because you haven't any idea of what I’m up against. I guess you know, molly, that I've been crazy about you ever since you strolled in the office that day. and knocked Whaton for a row of goals—l guess you know, too, that people are always, falling in love with you. It isn't fair to be as beautiful as you are—what I’m trying to say is I fell like a load of bricks the minute I laid eyes on you—but you know, molly, I never made love to you. “You told me about Jack Wells—and how you were more or less engaged. And perhaps you think that’s why I never did —but I'm not that kind of a chivalrous bird, molly. If I’d been in a position to try to make you love me, it wouldn’t have made any difference that some other man thought he had first rights. “Ever since I've known you, I've fought with my love. Every time you ever touched my hand. I'd want to take you in my arms—and hold you tight—and kiss you. “Remember the night you asked me if I had my sweetheart’s picture in the back of my watch? And I said 'Yes’—and showed it to you? And you said, ’Why, it’s your mother, Red.’ > < , “Well, I suppose I might have told you then that my mother is an invalid—that she hasn’t been out of a wheel chair hardly since I was bom —only I didn’t want you to think I was looking for sympathy, or anything like that. If I was to get married. my mother would Just about die. Molly. My father died when I was in high school, and then I started taking care of mother. I guess being an invalid is -enough to make any woman Jealous —anyhow, there’s no use talking about It. When a woman s helpless, you can’t blame her for being unreasonable. -That s why the stories in the papen got on my nerves. They’ll kill naf mother. If she sees them. That mty eound melodramatic—but it’s the truth. Now you know, dear, why I acted the way I did—and you

know, too, something I never meant to tell you. You know that I love you—and I guess maybe you’ll forgive me for telling you so, Red.” n n m MOLLY sat for a long time with the letter in her hand. So Red had fallen in love with her. And he had meant that she should never know. Poor, dear Red! She shuffled the sheets of his letter together, folded them, and put them back in the envelope. Then she opened her bag, and slipped the envelope beneath a pile of lingerie. She was sorry for Red with all her heart. It was too bad about Mrs. Flynn. But she must be a very selfish woman. And Red, of course, was a dear. There weren’t many sons who would sacrifice their whole lives for their mothers. Red would make a wonderful husband, too. He was so generous, and he had a wonderful disposition. Not a bit like Jack, who was usually dreadfully serious. Molly thought of something a girl at college used to say. Elizabeth Parker was her name. “If they can make me laugh, they can make me love ’em”—and then Elizabeth would fall for any man with a snappy line and a lot of wise cracks . . . Well, Red was good company,and he certianly was interesting. Probably some day he’d fall so hard for a girl that he would forget all about his mother. Red was homely, but he was what Molly called “nice homely.’’ He probably wouldn’t ever earn very much money, but he was the sort of person you could have a good time with, if he didn’t have a quarter. Jack of course was different. He was always serious about money. Being broke was a tragedy with him, while it was only a joke for Red. Molly sighed. And, reaching for the phone, dictated a telegram to Red: "Terribly sorry about everything. Don’t worry. Will see that rumor dies. Thank you for your letter. Please believe I sympathize and understand. Will write later. “MOLLY.” She was not, she decided, in any frame of mind to write the tactful answer that Red’s letter warranted. She must think of tender, understanding things to say. Now she would dash off, instead, a letter to Jack. Tomorrow she would write Red. She pulled out a little gilded chair, and sat at the Marie Antoinette desk. “Dear Jack.” she wrote, and sat for a moment, biting the end of her pen, considering. “Direct and to the point.” she decided. “And a little reticent, because it doesn’t pay to be too eager . . . “Dear Jack. I’m sorry you wouldn’t listen to me, or let me explain. The stories in the paper were entirely without foundation. I love you as much as I ever did. I’m going to Boston, and you can reach me there, if you wish.” u * • SHE read It over, and concluded that it was both digmifled and discreet. Now he could interpret the degree of her love in whatever terms he chose. If he wanted to think she preferred a career to marriage. he would probably continue his stubborn tactics. If he appreciated her love, he would ask her now to marry him. If he wanted to see her, he could reach her in Boston, t She had made a mistake, she decided, in urging and begging. She was acting like an idiot to telephone. when he made it so evident that he did not want to see her. And it would be absolutely crazy to stay any longer in New York, in the vain hope that he would come to her. Let him do the pursing for a change! She sealed the letter, and thumped It defiiantly with her fist. She wondered why she felt so much like crying. Why she felt so lonesome, when all the papers said she was the cleverest, prettiest girl in New York. Why tt was that Red was eating his heart out for her in Boston. And Jack wouldnt even take her to luncheon in New York. Why her mother was provincial. And her father hen-pecked. And Rita sick. And Ruth dead. And the world all

—By Williams

wrong with the author of the hit of Broadway. “Oh dear!” she sighed . . . and then the telephone rang. “Miss Burnham?” an eager voice inquired. “Oh, Miss Burnham, my name is Mary Austin, and I’m on the Herald. I know you said you wouldn’t see any more reporters today. But this is my first assignment, and you’ve no idea how much it means to me. I’m afraid I’ll be fired if I fall down on it.” Molly laughed. She had used the same plea herself, and she knew other girls who had. It was, in fact, a venerable scheme, and often j used by old-timers. “I’d hate to get you fired,” she answered. “Come up.” When Miss Austin presented herself, Molly was not surprised to see a self-possessed young woman of unquestionable experience. ‘T knew it!” she declared, laughing good naturedly. “I’ve pulled the same one myself.” Miss Austin smiled undismayed. “What’s the low-down on this Flynn person?” she demanded. “And have you a picture of prince charming?” Her gaze swept the dressing table. “They say he looks like Lindbergh,” she volunteered. “Long and lanky, I suppose. That’s the way I like ’em too. Who was it said long-legged men make the best lovers?” Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounds like tabloid philosophy Listen, Miss Austin, you’ll be doing me a favor if you kill that engagement story. It should never have been published.” Molly dropped her voice confidently. “Will you deny it for me?” “Why surely, if you want me to. So you're off romance?” There was a gay insolence about the girl from the Herald. "You know,” she declared, “I’ve always thought newspaper women had a nerve to marry. Seeing the blessed stated in the raw, as we do. Running across the shipwrecks in the courts. Getting the lowdown on it every day of our lives . . Well, you’re off romance, are you?” nun “\TOW see here!” protested Molly 1 1 indignantly. “I didn't say anything of the kind.” “But you’ve renounced marriage?” “I didn’t say that either. I’m leaving tomorrow for Boston, to attend my class reunion. And then I'm going to Italy, because I’m dying to see Venice, and eat a lot of spaghetti. I adore Italian jewelry, and Roman history, and I'm going to have a wonderful time. I’ll be gone for some weeks, and I don’t know what I'll tackle when I get back. I’ve been asked to do a talkie movie, and write a book, and a few other things. But everything will have to wait. I'm going to get together what money I can—l guess I can get an advance on royalties. | And I’m sailing straight for Naples.” (To Be Continued.)

TARZAN OF THE APES

In the higher land that the tribe frequented was a little lake. Here it was that Tarzan first saw his face ir the clear, still waters of its bosom. He was appalled! He turned red with shame as he compared his face and naked body with his more fortunate brother's.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TBIES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

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So intent was he upon this personal appraisement of his features that he did not hear the parting of the tall grass behind him as a great body pushed itself stealthily through the jungle. Not thirty paces behind the two she crouched—Sabor, the huge lioness—lashing her tail.

—By Martin

Cautiously she moved a great padded paw forward, noiselessly placing It before she lifted the next Thus she advanced —a great cat preparing to spring upon Its prey. An instant she paused. Then with an awful scream—voiced to freeze her victim in a paralysis of terror—she sprung.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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PONT KNOW WHAT’S is UKt A OVER HER. CHICK LOVES TO ' PITCHEO H\S VOICE '0 V.ASE VM STRONG FOR , TOMB. \ / BOGS HER AND FOR THE FIRST A DEEP BASS AND HE S \ PHVU.tS.SHE HA . DON'T / TIME IN HER LIFE Am JUMPS CHANGED U\S CLOTHES \ ACCOMPLISHES nose FEEL AT / WHEN CHICK SPEAKS TO HER AND TA-ICL TO DAV. VVC i *N A DAY THAN HOME / THOSE DIRTY LITTLE BOYS HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM QUIT E/\\VE HAVE IN y JtA BEEN WHISTLING ALL DAY LONG SO POMPOUS AND L' )

The little ape crouched tremblingly. Not so Tarzan, tire man-child. Before him lay the deep waters of the little lake—behind him certain death! Tarzan had always hated water. He could not swim. But before the great beast had covered half her leap. Tarzan felt the chill waters close above him.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Rapidly he moved his hands and feet. Soon his nose was above water. Sabor was Intently watching. Tarzan raised his voice in the tribal call of distress. Presently fifty great ape* . swung rapidly toward the scene. The* Sabor disappeared quickly into the brush and Tarzan swam happily to dry land.

PAGE 11

—By Ahem

—By Blosser;

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Taylo?