Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 258, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 March 1931 — Page 5

MARCH 7, 1931.

I’" —— -■ I ' Mil Mill.MM. 11.. 111., 111. 'MAD MARRIAG&I fy LAURA LOU BROOKMAN Author of HEART tiUNGRY’efc

BfOIN HERE TODAY OYPRY McBRIDE. 19-vear-old tvpilt. t'xt lo nift the boat whtch U bringing / \N CROSBY home from & vear and a half of at.udvlnr art tn Paris. The couple are not encased, but there has been an Understanding between them. On the oier the girl sees a beautiful woman waving to Crosbv. He sags her name la MRS. LANGLEY and that she Is a casual ship's '^ u a!ntance_ The couple drove to MRS. O H ARAB'S rooming house, where a celebration honoring the voung artist has been prepared. Just as the dinner Is to be eer'-ed Crosbv makes a telephone call and returns to say he must leave immediately. , , . . He goes to Mrs. Langlev s lavish apartment and agrees to attend a dinner party with her. It is evident that Crosbv is deeply attracted by the bcau'"XOWCOON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FOUR In the house across the way there were lights and a woman moving about thp kitchen. Downstairs the girl knew Alan Crosby was dressing for dinner. He had spoken vaguely of spending the evening with "people he met in Europe.” Nothing at all about when he was to see Gypsy. Not even excuses. Nothing at all about when they were to exchange news and gossip as. in letters, Alan had said he was so eager to do. Gypsy rested her head, wearily against the casement. She had reached the inevitable conclusion and there was no doubt about it. A!an had changed. That, unfortunately, was not the worst of it. Ihe worst, of the situation was that Alan had changed and she had not. Gradually the sky darkened. More lights blinked in the opposite building and the Oder of cooking food reached Gypsy’s nostrils. Even then she did not think, of eating. There were crackers and cheese and a ja v of marmelade in the square tin box on the table across the room, but Gypsy did not think of them. Neither did she switch on the light. Darkness was a blessing. Gypsy did not know v.’hat time it v.as when she at last arose, slipped out of her clothing and prepared for bed. Not until her head reached the pillows did the tears come. Then she wept bitter, choking sobs. She wept until exertion quieted her. Crosby’s neglect gradually became less of a. tragedy. He would explain it ail when she saw him tomorrow. Alan would make it seem very Billy of her to have been so miserable. Comforted, at last, she slr.pt. Sure enough, the following morning he hopes were justified. It was 11 o'clock. Gypsy was coming up the stairs after breakfast and a walk. As she passed the third floor landing Crosby’s door opened. The young man appeared, smiling. ‘‘Gypsy!’’ he called. ‘‘Wait a minute—l want to see you!” o u a Gi YPSY came down the stairs one r step. “What do you want?” she asked. Crosby stood in the doorway, beth hands on his hips. His dark hair was touseled as usual and his eyes looked sleepy. “Now, is that the way to speak to an old friend who’s been banished from God’s country for forty years?” he chided. Gypsy, my child, where are your manners?” It was impossible not to respond to that good-natured grin. Gypsy smiled, came down the two remaining steps. •‘Beg pardon, my lord!” she said, with mock humility. “I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again, my lord!” She dropped a deep courtesy. Crosby laughed. “Impudent little upstart!’ he scolded. “By George, Gypsy, you’re looking pretty this morning. Say—l’ve got a lot of tilings to talk to you about. “Have you got. anything to do right now? What do you say we brave the elements? Take me out and show me the town. I want to take a long walk, the way we used to.” “Where’ll we go?” “Anywhere. Have they still got the Battery?” The girl nodded. “And the Bronx Zoo?” Another nod. “And Riverside Drive?” “All three.” “Then let’s walk up Fifth avenue.” It was nonsense, but to Gypsy it sounded like the world's most scintillant wit. “I’d love to!” she said instantly. “Wait—l’ll be ready in a minute!” She was wearing her hat and coat. Gypsy already had walked ten blocks that morning. She ran up the flight to her own room. From the depths of a tiny closet

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hung with clothes the girl drew a pair of brown lizard pumps. They were smartly made with short vamps and high Cuban heels. The pumps were obviously new. Gypsy kicked off her worn oxfords and pulled on the pumps. They were flattering to her small feet. She paused before the dressing table to dab powder on her nose. No need to waste time on rouge—her cheeks were warm with color. A moment before the mirror, patting and poking at the waves of hair which showed beneath the brown beret. Then she was ready. “I’m coming!” Gypsy called. a tt u THERE was no one in sight, but the door of Crosby’s room was open. Through the opening Gypsy caught a glimpse of the young man struggling to get one arm into his overcoat. He heard her, turned and came into the hall. “Can’t find my gloves!” he grumbled. “Have to gc without them, I guess.” The girl laughed. “If I’ve heard you say that once I’ve heard it a hundred times,” she said. “That’s one thing you didn’t learn in Paris, did you—how to remember where you put things?” She searched the overcoat pockets. No gloves. “Oh, I probably lost them,” Crosby complained. “No use wasting time hunting any longer.” Gypsy stood in the doorway, surveying the room. Suddenly, as though inspired, she darted inside. “Here they are!” she said, kneeling beside the steamer trunk. From behind it she pulled two crumpled pieces of leather. Crosby accepted the gloves. “Thanks,” he said. “Must have knocked them down there last night.” His good humor was restored. They went down the stairway laughing. On the first floor Mrs. O’Hare was disappearing through the door of her private quarters. “Good morning!” Crosby called gaily. “Want to come along? We’re going out to view the metropolis.” Mrs. O’Hare tossed her head instead of answering. It was meant to indicate disapproval, but was unconvincing. Where good-looking Mr. Crosby was concerned, the landlady never could quite hold to rules that were arbitrary with other roomers. The young couple went through the front door and paused before descending the steps, it was nearly noon on one of those bright, rarely warm days that sometimes occur in late February. Crosby threw back his head. “Why, it’s spring!” he said. “This isn’t New York in February, it’s spring!” Gypsy glanced up happily at her companion. None but the most commonplace of phrases came to her. “It’s a beautiful day!? she said softly. She meant it. Windswept fields of daisies against an azure sky could not have seemed so beautiful as the grimy city street that morning. They walked east toward Fifth avenue. There was a Sunday quiet about the streets. Men, women, and children walked leisurely, enjoying the sunshine. Even the motor traffic seemed subdued. Crosby kept up a running -fire of conversation. He asked questions and before the girl could answer was launched on some anecdote of the trans-Atlantic voyage or Paris. “Which way?” he asked when they reached Fifth avenue. Gypsy glanced down at her feet. The new pumps were not walking shoes. She had worn them once before and found them comfortable, but it had been a spendthrift occasion when she had patronized taxicabs. The left heel was beginning to burn. No one would have guessed this, however, from the girl’s smile. She nodded toward the north. Walking up Fifth avenue to the entrance of Central park had been a favorite joint on Sunday mornings two years ago. B tt tt EVIDENTLY Crosby remembered too. ... “Like old times, kid?” he said as they turned north, swinging into step. There was a slight wind. It was colder going north and the wind whipped their faces. Beyond them gleaming towers of ivory and silver—the city’s manmade marvels—caught the sunlight and burned like white fire. They were the newest and high-

est addition to the city’s skyline and they set Crosby off into paeans of admiration. Everything seemed to please the young man that morning. Gypsy reflected his mood. If only she hadn’t worn the new pumps! Now the right as well as the left heel throbbed. Alan expounded the glories of New York. “But there must have been some things you liked in Paris!” the girl objected. “Oh—sure!” He began to tell her of holiday excursions, delicious French cooking, friends he met at art school, the little chapel near his lodging house, neglected by tourists, but a perfect gem of seventeenth century design. “I wish you could see the place. You’d love it, Gypsy!” “I’m sure I would.” “Say, there’s another place that used to make me think of you—” Crosby told about an outdoor restaurant where there was music and delicious food and all the patrons were friendly. He told her about gay evenings there with other students. “You’d have liked them, Gypsy. There was a girl who used to come there who made me think of you. Only she wasn’t so pretty. She had dark hair and eyes, but her eyes didn't wave the way yours does. “It was the way she laughed, I guess, that made me think of you. You look awfully cute when you laugh, Gypsy.” What was the anguish of a blistered heel?” “Alan—do you really think so?” “Os course I do. Now don’t tell me you don’t know it! Say—what’s the matter with your foot? You’re limping!” “It’s nothing Just well, this shoe seems a little tight. It’s all right.” “Hurts, doesn’t it?” “Y-ess.” “Why didn’t you tell me? Gosh, I’ll bet it’s made a blister. Now, why on earth didn’t you speak up about that? We’ll get a cab right away.” “Honestly I don’t mind—” Gypsy began but he silenced her with a new suggestion. “Look here! Could you possibly walk one block farther?” He mentioned a nearby branch of a national chain of restaurants. It was a place where they had dined often. “How about having dinner there?” (To Be Continued)

STICKERS BI E |r Ir Iy | S_J_ G_ H_JT_ L L_ G_ |E Inltlr Yl Can you recast all the letters in the words shown above, into the empty squares below so that the new words will read alike from top to bottom and from left to right? Any letter may be shifted to any space. -j

Answer for Yesterday

/K \\A C? 'V A' ! By moving match “A” from its original position to position “B” and match “C” from its original position to position “D” and then adding the extra match “E” to the position shown, two diamonds are formed.

TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION

“Tarzan,” cried Manu the monkey, in the language that was common to both of them, “it is Manu, Tarzan, come to warn you. Do not go to Opar. Cadj and his people wait to slay you.” The white man and the blacks looked up at the sound of his chattering voice. Seeing it was only a monkey making the great racket, the blacks returned to their slave tasks. The white man similarly ignored the words of warning. Manu knew the blacks could not understand his language, but he knew the big white man could. He couldn’t comprehend why ‘Tarzan” failed to pay any attention to him whatsoever.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES _

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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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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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Again and again he called Tarzan by name, shrieking his warning anew. But the great Tarmangani seemed not to hear or understand him. Manu was mystified. Why should Tarzan of the Apes be so indifferent to the warnings of his old friend? At last the little monkey gave up. He trembled at the thought of recrossing the valley, for he knew his enemies prowled by night. He scratched himself and hugged his knees—a very forlorn and unhappy little monkey. * -■ *

—F*’ Ahem

But he knew he was safe on the high kopje and decided to stay there during the night. The full moon rose. By its light Manu saw "Tarzan” urging his men to mount the completed ladders. Manu had never seen the white man so cruel and rough with his natives. When they had all ascended, ‘“Tarzan” followed. Manu saw them disappear, apparently Into the heart of the great rock. . . . Some hours later they commenced to reappear and now each black man was burdened by two heavy objects carried in both -arms. 3t . .

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Manu watched these men cast their burdens, looking like oblong stones, jver the edge of the kopje. Then they deg nded to the ground, lowered the hid it. They took the blocks which the/ j brought forth from the heart of the kr and following “Tarzan'' set out to march away. Man was certainly puzzled. But he knew the ways of men were peculiar. Were they not always loading themselves with trinkets which impeded their progress and otherwise making life complicated? Manu congratulated himself he was not a man, yawned—and fell asleep.

PAGE 5

—By Williams

—By Blogger

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin