Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 32, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 June 1930 — Page 13

JUNE 17, 1930_

OUT OUR WAY

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TwiiTWives BY ARTHUR SOMERS ROCHE cqm.ieb.-s weekly

SYNOPSIS Ao Cvnthia. the actress, impersonating Kleanor the heiress, her tain, in every citai! except that of birth, at the latter's ■tteddine reception while Eleanor herself is at the bedside of her former lover, who has attempted suicide. Cynthia feeis that she can carry on at most a half hour longer. But beyond that she feels she cannot go. Neither Eleanor s father nor the deceived bridegroom suspects her identity but she feels that this Is due largely to the champagne and hilarity of the guests. The two men get her alone, begin to Question her. She is frightened at first, but decides to go on with the masouerade. Then comes the phone call from Eleanor. CHAPTER TWELVE “'■"■"''HEN how soon?” J. “You’ll stick by me, then?” urged Eleanor. “The minute that its possible to leave Phil, or if he dies ” Her voice broke, and the emotion she undoubtedly felt was the first extenuating note in the conversation. “But you’re asking me to go to jour new home with the man you’ve just married,” protested Cynthia. “You've met him, haven’t you? You've talked to him. You’re not afraid of any lack of chivalry on his part, are you?” 'But don't you see? The situation Is impossible.” Once again Cynthia was horrified at the noteof mirth in the other girl’s voice. "No situation is impossible to a quick-witted woman!” “But to a decent woman,” said Cynthia angrily. * “What have decencies to do with it? All the decencies are with you. You don’t want Phil to die. and Dean to be humiliated, and my father to feel disgraced?” Cynthia drew a long breath. The amazing reasoning on the part of Flcanor was almost incomprehensible. Here was one bent on gratifying her own desire that she was able shift the burden of fault upon another. And yet. despite her hatred. Cynthia could not ignore the existence of that spiritual bond which had tied them in instant intimacy. Somehow, too, Cynthia felt that her hatred toward Eleanor was not real, but was merely a reflection of her rage toward herself for having ever entered into this impersonation. The very absurdity of Eleanor's appeal lent, after Cynthia's first amazement, power to it. Cyr "hia didn't want Phil to die; if Eleanor loved the man. then Cynthia, perforce, wished him to be preserved. Cynthia didn't want Dean humiliated; there was something so gently fine about him that she did not wish to be in any way a party to hurting him. And most positively she didn't want Tom Sanver to feel disgraced. When he had embraced her. lifted her from the ground, more than his stout arms had effected that embrace. Incomprehensible bonds between them, strong even, if that were possible, than the strange ties that held her to Eieanor, had been recognized by Cynthia. She realized, with a feeling of Inevitability that almost frightened her. that all her argument of the last few minutes had been advanced only half-heartedly. She would go to almost any length to preserve Eleanor from going down to a ruin whose wreckage would do irreparable damage to others. ts a a BUT, impelled though she was by intangibilities of spiritual relationship whose wide embrace appalled her, she knew that there was an ultimate deceit of which she could not be capable. The moment that Carey's arm went about her. the moment that his lips touched hers, deceit must definitely end. She assured herself of this as she uttered & reluctant acquiescence to Eleanor’s demands. "But don't telephone me again that you can’t come." she ordered. If Eleanor had had any faint doubt that Cynthia would prove obdurate. that doubt vanished now. “I promise," she agreed. Again that inner callousness, so shockingly incomprehensible to Cynthia, appeared in her tones. “I wonder what Dean will say about this when we tell him some day?" Nothing could have been more expository of the shallowness of Eleanor's spiritual depth than this remark. Cynthia, hanging up the receiver, and sitting disconsolately on the edge of the bed. marveled more at this utterance than at anything else that had happpened today. _ How deep was Eleanor's devotion sp Phil Jennings? Was it the JHma, the wild melodrama, of the piiuauon that was attractive to

her? Had the bizarre quality of the affair, rather than a withering passion, made her embark upon such madness? If she contemplated discussing this matter with Dean on some future date, could mention lightly that discussion, she could not look upon this escapade as anything more than a wild lark. Cynthia was not enough acquainted with life and people to know that the commonest thing in the world is a minimizing of the difficulties of the present in order to enable one to endure them. It is always the future which we paint in deepest black; the present is passing so swiftly that we really have not time in which to emphasize it. Cynthia thought that Eleanor was as callous, as insensitive, as she sounded. Yet as she walked to the door of the bedroom, she began to revise her just-acquired opinion of Eleanor. Carey's wife couldn’t be as lighthearted as her last words indicated. Then, as she opened the door, Eleanor’s attitude and feelings and qualities, good or bad, became unimportant. For Carter stood in the hall. She had never been so attractive to a man in her life, and the attraction was intensified by his pathetic quality. To Cynthia he was pathetic because of the fact that he was being so outrageously deceived. That he was unaware of the deception; that, please God, he would never know of the deception, in no way diminished the pathos of it. “Shall we go now?” he asked. Looking at him, conscious of that fine honesty which one instantly felt to be as much a part of him as his eyes or his hands or his wide shoulders, aware of that pride which was as recognizable as his sincerity, she wondered that Eleanor could jest about telling Dean of this impersonation. How was it possible that Eleanor, even though not loving the man, could have advanced along the ascending planes of intimacy that led to an engagement and a marriage, have learned so little about him? ft n SHE, Cynthia, who had exchanged only half a dozen sentences with him. knew that honesty and pride are frequently the most inflammable fuel for a conflagration of wrath. On that day when Eleanor should let a perverted sense of humor get the better of her judgment, Cynthia trusted that she would be in some remote and preferably inaccessible spot. She did not wish to be scorched by the blaze of his contempt. An advance tongue of that blaze touched her cheeks now. He advanced solicitously to her, but made no move to touch her. “We can go down the back stairs, out the private entrance,” he suggested. Cynthia nodded. She turned and followed Mary into the bedroom. Behind her came Dean. Unconsciously he walked gingerly, treading the floor of this apartment as though he were entering some sacred place. “Why,” he exelai.ned. “your room is furnished just like this!” He alluded, she knew, to the room in the house which Eleanor’s father had bought and furnished as a bridal gift. "Your father and the decorators copied this room exactly,” went on Dean. How simple honest men were! Eleanor had. of course- conspired with the interior decorators, but so shrewdly that Sanver had thought that copying this room was his own idea. It was a petty deceit, as compared with the larger deceit that had followed, but it threw another sidelight on the character of Eleanor. It showed that selfishness had not been a sudden growth, forced into ripeness by the exigencies of a moment, but that it had been a sturdy flowering plant for a long time. * m SOONER oi later Dean would discover these petty matters. He might never know that for the first few hours of his marriage his bride hung over the bedside of another man, but Eleanor would brush the bloom off the rose by other actions and Cynthia blushed in vicarious shame. Again Carey misread the upon her face. His own Wnoar/assment became acute. Like two * '** V** ** \

—By Williams

awkward children in the hobbledehoy stage, they passed through the room, averting their glances and careful not to brush against each other. The moment didn’t hold the proper amount of drama, thought Mary. She burst 'into tears which though obviously fictitious, nevertheless demanded notice. Cynthia turned to her. “I’ll not be after seeing you till you come back,” wailed Mary. “But that may be very soon,” Cynthia consoled her. An idea came to her. It might be necessary to have a confederate. When Eleanor should rejoin her husband, and Cynthia should disappear, th; aid of one devoted to Eleanor might prove most valuable. “You better go right over to our house,” she told Mary- She turned to Dean. “I’m taking Mary with us,” she announced. Dean nodded. “Don’t tell the servants, Mary. We don’t want it known that we aren't leaving town right away. You come over as soon as you can.” As they went through the next room he looked inquiringly at Cynthia. “Thought you didn't want Mary until we returned from our honeymoon?” “That was when I thought we were going out of town,” said Cynthia. “But if we’re going straight home, she’ll be invaluable in straightening out my things.” The excuse was clumsy, as impromptu lies are wont to be, but Carey was so obsessed with ownership of the girl beside him that he was beyond noticing little things. He said nothing as they descended the stairs, and they passed in silence into the Molvania’s lobby and thence to an automobile which Sanver had caused to be in readiness outside the apartment house. The chauffeur salu-ed and grinned delightedly. “Congratulations again, Mrs. Carey,” he said. “Ain't she a pippin?” His sweeping glace along the lines of the town car apprised Cynthia of the fact that he was not slangily and familiarly referring to herself, but was calling attention to the beauties of the obviously new automobile. She smilingly agreed. Yet even this trifling incident frightened her. Was this car, on whose door she saw the monogram E. C., a gift from Eleanor’s father or Eleanor’s husband? And what was the name of the chauffeur, and was he an employe of Dean or had he been long in the Sanver service? Thank God, the home to which they were being driven would hardly be stuffed by Sanver servants. (To Be Continued) Father of Seven Dies Bu limes Svecial ANDERSON, Ind., June 17. Samuel Surface. 71, is dead at the family residence here. He leaves his widow, Mrs. Bertha Surface; four daughters, and three sons.

THE SON OF TARZAN

Merle m stood trembling before the sheik. The years and her clothes had not altered her so much but that one who had known her features so well in childhood would know her now. To think that after all these happy years she should again be thrust into the hands of this villainous, cruel, old desert chief! Stepping toward the shrinking girl, he grasped her fiercely by her arm. “So you have come back to your people at last,” he marled.

. THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

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Meriem’s silence seemed to fan the sheik's wrath. He struck her a heavy blow upon the face. When, some hours later, she regained her numbed senses, she gave way to tears of despair. For she found herself within a filthy tent. Tattered garments, scarcely covering her. had taken the place of her riding outfit. The rifle and that precious packet with her baby photograph were also gone. Worst of all, hideous old Mabunu sat grinning in one comer.

—By Martin

Now the sheik lost no time in re-estabiishing the old relations that had existed between them In the past. He seemed to revel in finding new methods of torturing or humiliating her and among all his followers none dared defend her. As of old, she was permitted the freedom of the village, but escape was impossible. So the wretched days passed for Meriem. But there was one ia the sheik s camp destined to aid her.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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#*V .IT*. /%i i xCiF* Indian QUA .tir'L' /r\ Boys QUA'-'K ,£ ■■j

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—By Cowan

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

One afternoon as she sat before her tent thinking of how Korak had rescued her from this very place eight years before, she suddenly became aware she was not alone. Somebody stood close behind her who had approached noiselessly. A hand fell upon her shoulder and as she waited in dumb terror the blow she felt the sheik was about to give her. she looked up instead Into the dark eyes and handsome face of the young Arab, Abdul (fxmalr

PAGE 13

—By Ahern

—By Blossei*

—By Crane

—By Small