Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 34, Indianapolis, Marion County, 19 June 1930 — Page 14

PAGE 14

OUT OUR WAY

EIE !\ ( , Am’ X THtMV< \ /GOOD GOSH,} OSH—VJF V HEG SCAiCrT HEX-L I! DO VOO 'IHinW FEP? I pwcvj OiTTA \ GYf A FFP? 'X OmF MiMOlfe TtAEX? \ WET BE ' M ‘ ° OMe - SO '***•) CGW** A FELLER \ T’ 1 TH’ GAS i vajOHß'Yim J vmHO € MAS/6S c A ’©CuT A UCWivj’ 4 FoCTT Am' VsjvTW * y V four F.R M a mustache. BOY) , -MOMEMTs’we'O UKE l£> LWE OVER- CZ?.v\/iLItAM> Rtq.u s PtT.orr. "THE BEGIMM\MCt OF AH EPIDEM'O- 01930 syne* scrv.ce, .no.

COPV RIGHT * IBY AKTHUK SOMERS ROCHE

SYNOPSIS Cynthia Brown, dancine girl. goes to Eleanor Sanver’s new home with Dean, Eleanor's newly wed husband, who. thinking Cvnthia is his wife, takes her over the house. When they are alone In his room Dean clasps Cyntha In his arms and kisses her passionately. The girl succumbs in his arms for a moment feeling a sudden and overwhelming love for him mingled with her contempt for Eleanor, who would leave such a husband on her wedding day to go secretly to a former lover, who had attempted suicide when he learned of her marriage.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN BUT the thought of Eleanor made her avert her face, break his clasp and release herself. After all, vulgar though Eleanor’s mirthful anticipation of something like this had been, she had not thought it probable, else her voice had not been tinged with humor. Nor did the fact that Eleanor was in the very act of perpetrating a great disloyalty to Dean do anything toward minimizing the baseness of what Cynthia was doing. For it was base. There could be no argument against this summing up of hr actions. The fact that Dean might never know that his first marital kiss had not been given *0 his wife made no difference in the wrong that Cynthia was doing. But now, flushed and trembling, Cynthia began to comprehend the driving force that had animated Eleanor’s madness. Love in Cynthia’s understanding had been a .vague sort of thing. She had pasted little time in consideration b: it. I She knew that she was pretty, knew that she was attractive to men, but men never had attracted her. She liked their companionship, found them useful and entertaining. but never had seen one whom she particularly cared to see the second time. But now, just released from Dean’s clasp, she knew all about love. All that was worth knowing, anyway, she thought. Enough, surely, to make her understand why Eleanor had gone to such unbelievable lengths today. For she knew that she. Cynthia, would have done the same thing under the same circumstances. Honor? What was that? Loyalty? Os what value was this? Duty and devotion were things to teach children, but which had no real part in th* activities of living. The only important thing was love. Yet. as she came to this ageold conclusion, mirth crinkled her eyes and curled the corners of her mouth. What a potent thing an illicit kiss was that should knock down all the moral barriers. Only it didn't! Not in her case. Surprise—though heaven knew she shouldn't have been surprised that a husband should want to kiss his bride—had imbalanced the barriers, but the weights of decency were already tipping them back into position. Now, because she knew that they could be pushed over, she would be on her guard. She might have to exist on the memory of this one kiss until spiritual starvation set in, but the occurrence would have no repetition. a a a OUEERLY, as she made the resolution, she thought of her logic which had made her believe that Phil Jennings would not be deceived by an imitation Eleanor. She wondered how true her reasoning had really been. She had th->ught that the reason she would be able to deceive Dean lay in the fact that Eleanor did not love her husband Perhaps she had been all wrong. Perhaps Dean has accepted Cynthia so unquestionably because she. Cynthia, did love him. But she hadn't loved Dean until he kissed her! But how did she know che hadn’t? Perhaps we love before we ever see the object of our passion The blade of grass that reaches vainly toward the sun had one definite purpose while yet it lay beneath the earth. Seeking the light, who shall say that it did not love the light b*v fore it ever was aware that light existed? These and a thousand other chaot.' thoughts tumbled through her consciousness, as, finally free from his groping arms, she managed to face him. Sudden jealousy mingled with her tumbling thoughts. The passion, the gentleness, the restraint, the chivalry—all these were not for her, but for another. The very light in his eyes as he looked upon her now, the flush on his face, his heavy breathing were for another substance.

A thought reparted itself from all the others; Eleanor didn’t want this man Eleanor’s marriage to this man must turn out tragically. For Dean Carey would look upon unhappiness in marriage as nothing less than tragedy. In response to some intangible obligation Cynthia had entered upon this masquerade. Some spiritual bond had allied her with Eleanor, but something stronger than her ties with Eleanor had leaped into her life. She knew inevitably that she loved Dean. And it wasn’t- true that she was the shadow of which Eleanor was the substance. She could take tihs man away from Eleanor. No matter how greatly he had deemed himself in love with Tom Sanver’s daughter, he now was in love with the girl who stood before him. This she knew and, knowing, she swayed toward him. He had released her in response to an unuttered appeal. But now at this sign of reyielding, he reached for her again. But she knew that if she yielded now, a second time, there would be no retreat possible. For she had had time to think, and if she kissed him now it would be because she wanted to kiss more than she wanted to be decent. In the fraction of a second that elapsed while his hands were still groping for her, she banished madness. At least she thought she did. But possibly the decencies of a lifetime rallied to her aid; maybe all the great decisions which we think instantaneous are but the culmination of habits of thought. The odd decisiveness of her gesture stopped him. Smilingly, unhurt, he looked at her. “You put out your hands to bar me. but upon one finger I see my ring,” he laughed. “Which means what?” she asked, “Why. it means that there’s a traitor in your camp. The hand that fends me off belongs to me, and so it can’t be loyal to you.” “Nevertheless the hand is pretending loyalty and bids you keep ycur distance.” The words seemed trite, as though copied from the utterance of some heroine of an old-time melodrama. a a a BUT he was in no mood to weigh the nuance of words or tones. His gray eyes were shining, not with the passion of a moment ago, bu with a great contentment. She knew, with that acuteness which women possess, that all their conversation would be but a blurred memory to n in another day; women can re - nber every slightest action that oduces surrender, but men treasure only the surrender. “Eut you have other traitors in your camp,” he told her. “Your eyes and your lips.” His voice held a proudly triumphant ring. “Traitors may be false to both sides,’’ she reminded him. He shook his head. “But I can’t be deceived by false reports any longer. I know something now.” She fought for a gayety that, though spurious, might avail. “And what is this great knowledge that suddenly has descended upon you?” she mocked him. "You love me,” he told her simply. “Sure of that?” Again he nodded. “I wasn’t sure —in fact. I was very sure that you didn't. But what I told you has come true, hasn’t it?” “You’ve told me so many things,” she e •aded. “That as soon as we married you’d know you loved me,” he explained. She made a little moue. "All men are so sure of that, aren’t they?” “But I wasn't sure. I merely hoped, and simply said to you that my wish was so great that I felt it would come true. And it nas, hasn't it?” a a a AGAIN the ground beneath her feet quaked. “You seem certain.” “But I want to hear you say so,” he insisted. “Are words important” she demanded. “They can be very sweet, and sweetness is important. Isn’t it?” “It might be,” she admitted. “You know it is. Don’t you like to hear me tell you that I love you' “I haven’t heard you," she retorted.

—By Williams

He laughed at her. You know that I’ve said nothing else for months.” “But that was before—” she stopped, short in confusion. “Before a moment ago. You mean, before you’d found out that you loved me. My telling you that I love you has become more important in the last five minutes” “Why should it?” she asked. “When you didn’t love me it couldn't be important that I loved you.” “Important enough for me to marry you, wasn’t it?” she countered. “But not nearly so important as now, when you care for me,” he answered. “You know a lot about love and reactions, don’t J/ouV’ she jeered. “I’m beginning to learn,” he smiled. “And the pupil enjoys his lessons?” For the life of her she could not keep from coquetry. “The home work isn’t arduous,” he told her. a a a HE had sophistication. She wondered how Eleanor ever could have dared to think of marrying this man and withholding from him her love. For Dean could follow emetion with gayety, and such sophistication is not easy to deceive. Suddenly his manner grew brusque, with that air of command which lovers like to assume. “Come on, tell me that you love me,” he ordered. “Who gives everything today can give nothing tomorrow,” she stated. “A woman like you couldn’t give everything in a thousand years,” he said. “Would you want anything that I had to give after the first hundred?” “I shall want you to keep on giving a million years from now,” he assured her. “I wonder where we'll be then?” she idly asked. “Together,” he said. “And you won’t get tired of me?” “Love never tires.” “I wonder how many lovers have made that remark,” she murmured. “Millions.” “And how many of them were disillusioned?” “None of them.” “Divorce means nothing then?” she inquired. He shook his head. “We may think love dies, because we are no longer aware of its continued ex-' istence. But because we have lost sight of it doesn’t prove that it’s really gone. If this house burned down, the things that made it, the vital elements, would still exist, though in another form.” (To Be Continued) Evangelist Writes Book Bu Timm Sn print MONTICELLO, Ind., June 19. “Illustrations From Art” is the title of the twenty-sixth book written by Dr. William E. Biederwolf of Monticello, widely known evangelist.

THE SON OF TARZAN

Abdul Kamak rode straight for the caravan trail which headed northward to the nearest French garrison. Behind him, the Sheik’s followers, soon forced to give up the pursuit, were returning home. The sound of their galloping horses came to the ears of a lone white man making his unsteady way across a clearing. Weary of the long hours in the tree, Morison Baynes had wandered far from the place Korak had left him, trying in vain to find the apeman.

. ~.A CT THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

f 6K',WXX- | WEVI. WOT ?)( W*W, 4 WOHE .WD .... [§l 1 KMD NO I nV PtRfECT: U*SCt "*??••• voo 6*\o \T wfm.l otA voo 1 m\to6 wvk, vyt'ws.— WSCO66IW6 WtRE 6OUO ‘ 6AV,TWtFt'& A y 1 i>eiß- tor. such r nce A T Pi LONG j Fi.NCt DOWN kVgH'S A | TOR. THE RVOE f VWERt •••<***% ifc-BUSsT MWI _-C4K

FOOL ME \ \ KiOUO iO*>TOH.HAW6 VOUR. COAT —} RE HOMESICK' LOOK LOWAT 606 H ,®OOT6 —IH 60 ,-J B> OVM OOE.K. Voo'vit DONE 6>VF“vO TO SEE TOO H N>OW r TO MT K*CE V COOL'D EAT TOO 1 ' n•... | . ij*'''' ' ' >., '. •"• 1Y rum e> nt* stw/ict inc ' *ra. u 5 Pt err • '; y " J

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

102 U£ AIRSQUADRON MAD 0 ■*■<!*-iffy* LANDED ALMOST aSfe*. ' ■VJrmiN A STOWE'S s. ' •*" THRCNJ OP ■“ freckles and ZTvS _ 7M£ IURS£ F|v IISBk * PRgS ( OFF ONIV la BE ° *. C discovered bv A. . FRECKLES AND " /v V TUc Indian bo/semeral yir^pr — x/ RAINOTES Too y I \l t \ \O) \ \ \\\v n\ 00 soweiuiws LATE 11 JJ A\. V\ T6CETTUEW J^_ '' '-X- _> v-OJk To NOTICE . LUCK.’! A i— - — —)

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

T'tUE UOVEIN MAIDEN IS MOST STuPicjt SUE IS BEYOND THE COM- /SHE VS UNDOUBTEDLY IN LQUE.O / O LORD OF LIVE, NOT To SEE. YOUR 1 PREHENSION Or MAN. NEVER COMMANOER OP THE SUN, WITH V. MAJESTY'S UNDENIABLE CHARM. / BEFORE HAS THIS ARDENT ONE OF HER FOREIGN COMPANIONS

SALESMAN SAM

AS SUPPOSED'! (' ( BY RUM NINO- To BEAT TR‘ rr’LL Be. ftWIFULLV SORRV, MONCLY, OOM’T BEL So' iM SOfASCOR- ' '-x .SO fAUCH- L.ESS fAUSIO V LL.HfWe.TE> LftTfe. 1 . SnLm - SPiRCftSTIC *~^

MOM’N POP

Bits Ms.riNKicGAN. he's A not awful itad. POP, MAKE HER f LOOK*. HE'S C^MIH 1 \ Cg. \I i V RAISIN' HECK AND SMASWIN' ]/ WE/RESTED. 3/ DOR l WAS RIGHT UP \ SHOT UP AND OVER TO OOP HoUSE. GEE.) _ /V) /■ N THINGS OP LIKE MRS. SNOOP /TOO CAN BE j BACK OF THE FENCE \ GET AWAV FROn WHAT'S HE WAVIN' /Ry - f ) SAN'S HE DOES WHEN A THE OFFICIAL I LISTENIN' TO HIM AND HE I THE WINDOW. IN HIS WAND Y /Ta / J

Too late for concealment, Baynes saw he was discovered. The Arabs closed in on him, questioning him in their language which he did not understand. They disarmed him, their leader swung him to a horse and away they gaglloped again toward the Sheik's village. Having sent the party after Abdul Kamak, the old Sheik was wroth that instead they had returned with a wounded and useless Englishman. Still he might not be entirely worthless.

—By Martin

The Sheik scowled terribly upon Baynes. “Who are you?” he asked in French. “I am the Hon. Morison Baynes of London,” replied the prisoner. The title sounded promising and at once „he wily old robber had visions of ransom. His attitude changed. He would investigate further. “Why are you in my country?” he questioned. Baynes decided to tell very little. “I was searching for a young woman, stolen from her people,” he replied.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

BUG E6AD.MR3. HOUM 16 rC lah ~*-"TWat is um- ) _ '_ _ f>qS MPOUj/ wrt VOU sE£t I WAS 'v FOR 4 MERELV HOLPIMG "THE >gs|| :mee >r bat' lam -pipmY j ► Have f] strike at-the ball l-4< \K£\ KIPS wrfH rfs v/SLoo-ry, /^ -the ball struck-the 1 . r MoSExSSI BA*f t AMP ACCORPiMg "To THE Jw -THE LAvM OF PHTSICS, V . aJ AAj iRREStS-fiBLE *'' > ■'■ tVV * CI33QgT Hl* StWVCt.INC BtO. U. S AT. OFTI** fe-|<?- HIAA I .EG

H a&=z£W% i ( SNUATS CUANCV IUCWIWC V| IWOr .'•ffjfj ) Back foe? UES UEADIN' ]

r NO, NOT THATI AH, HOW COSTLY BLESfN /? THIS UNLETTERED HAI TO BE SURE k . <LO l . BEG MY WITH BOUNTIFUL WISDOM IS THIS MOST / PERSON FAILS To / FORGIVENESS OF THE CHARMING ENLIGHTENED ONE 1 . BEHOLD, THE NAMELESS COMPREHEND THE \ MAIDEN. ASSURE HER THAT THIS SWH4E SHALL BE SHOWERED WITH GLORY, ( WORKINGS OF THY I SINLESS PERSON WAS BUT TESTING . RICHES, AtOD HONOR INSTEAD. ,- VPONDEROUS BRAIN. ) HER NOfclE HONOR, AND IS NELL 1 . 'IIM w Miiintt i'c >ni u C" .K - I \

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The Sheik looked at him craftily and led him toward a tent. “Is that the girl?’’ he asked. Baynes looked in the direction indicated and was astounded. “Meriem!” he cried, starting toward her. Roughly nc was jerked back. Meriem leaped to her feet startled as she heard her name. "So you are the Christian dog who stole my daughter?” shrieked the Sheik. “You have earned death, Englishman, but if you can pay for your life I will give it to you.”

.JUNE 19,1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan