Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 260, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 March 1931 — Page 13

march 11, mi.

VIA) I^A^AGzrl! \ bl l LAURA LOU BROOKMAN Author of HEAPTtIUNGRY’etc.-

BEGK HERE TODAT GYPSY MCBRIDE. 19-year-old typist, I°'' to meet the boat on which ALAN vROSBY Is returning from a year and * naif in Paris. On the pier the girl geea a beautiful woman waving to CrorHe Identifies her as MBS. LANOLETV. a ship’s acaualntance. Two night’s later Crosby breaks an engagement with Gypsv. explaining he Is spendlngthe evening with business associates. The girl goes to the theater alone and encounters Crosby with Mrs. Langley in the after-theater crowd. There Is a scene. Mrs. Langley drives away in her car and Gypsv and Crosby go home in a cab. quarreling. Next day at the office Gypsy 1* offered a promo lorn but she is too unhappy to be Interested. She takes a dictation test from Mr. Reynolds, her new superior. Later she hurnes home, determined to apologise to Crosby, and meets him In the hallway. NOW GO ON WITH TTTE STOBY CHAPTER SEVEN Reynolds nodded. He was a well set-up young man with pleasant blue eyes and lightish brown hair. He had the look of a man who likes outdoor activities. Without any delay he launched Into the waiting correspondence. He dictated clearly, not too rapidly. There was no reason why Gypsy should have missed a word, yet when he had finished and she closed her notebook the girl knew she had written the words automatically. "Leave the letters on my desk if I’m not here when you finish,’’ Reynolds instructed. Gypsy agreed. Then she hurried back to the other office to transcribe the notes. She wrote the letters swiftly and was pleased with their appearance. There was no one in Reynolds’ office when she laid them on his desk. An hour and a half later, entering the door of Mrs. O’Hara’s rooming house, she met Alan Crosby. a a a FDR an instant, surprise held both of them. - Then Gypsy stepped back. "Why, why, hello—” she began. Crosby ducked his head In what was Intended for a bow. He moved aside to let her pass. But the girl did not move. "Alan!” she cried, “Where are you going?” She was looking down at the suitcase Crosby was carrying. “You’re —you’re not leaving, are you?” Crosby nodded. “Moving to a place farther up town,” he said curtly. He paused an instant, then added: “I didn’t suppose you’d be interested.” She overlooked the thrust. "Alan —please,” the words came with an Incoherent rush, "I—there’s something I want to talk to you about. I didn’t mean what I said last night. You’ll believe that, won’t you?” The young man frowned, glancing over one shoulder. There was no one in sight, but down the hallway a door stood half-open. Gypsy knew as well as Crosby a dozen ear? might be listening. “What do you want to do?” he asked quietly. “Broadcast? I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go—” “But you can’t! You’ve got to hear what I want to tell you!” The rooming house parlor, with its dim lights and drab furnishings, stood at the right. As well shout from the housetops as to expect privacy there. "Ive got to go, Gypsy,” Crosby repeated impatiently. He put a hand on the doorknob, turned it and crossed the threshold. The girl caught his arm. ”Not yet!” she cried. "Oh, Alan! Please let me talk to you. Please wait! Just for five minutes if you’re in a hurry. Let’s go somewhere where we can be alone!” They were both outside the house now, standing at the top of the flight of stone steps. Crosby reached back and closed the door behind them. “Well—all right. Where can we go? I haven’t got much time.” There was only one choice. “The corner drug store,” Gypsy told him. "We’ll get the booth in the corner.” They walked the half-block in silehce. Gypsy knew her worst fears were being realized. She wanted terribly to talk to Alan, but what was there to say? All the speeches she had intended to make vanished. Alan’s manner frightened her. a a a OFTEN in times past she and Alan had stopped at this drug store for a hasty supper or late lunch. They reached the place and entered. Beyond the lunch counter and glass cases filled with assorted wares were three small tables. Farther back against the wall were two built-in booths with benches on each side of narrow tables. The corner booth, toward which Gypsy led the way, was inclosed and partly concealed from view. The girl sat down and Crosby pushed into the seat opposite. “Well,” he said, “what is it that’s

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on your mind?” His tone was cool, composed. Gypsy’s dark eyes sought the man’s. Her face was colortess except for the red lips which struggled to keep from trembling. "I want to tell you I’m sorry—about what happened last night.” Gypsy could hardly recognize her own voice. It sounded strange and far away. "I—l shouldn’t have said what I did.” Before Crosby could reply a waiter was beside them. “Wham it be tonight?” he asked breezily. “Got nice vegetable soup, baked beans, hot ham sandwich. What’ll it be?” Gypsy shook her head. "Nothing for me," she said. The thought of food was unbearable. “Ham sandwich and coffee,” Crosby ordered, but when the food was set before him he barely tasted it. The waiter left them. Now was her chance. “Oh, Alan, I’ve been miserable!” Gypsy exclaimed. "You know I didn’t mean all I said last night. I don’t know what was the matter with me. I was excited, I guess. “Say you’ll forgive me and that things will be the way they were before—” Crosby looked as though he feared another scene. “Forget it!” he said stiffly. "It was my fault, too. Just don’t think about it any more.” The tragic look faded. Gypsy was smiling. "Then everything’s all right again?” she asked hopefully. The young man agreed. There was something about his expression that should have warned her of troubles ahead. “Oh—l’m so glad!” It was a happy sigh. Crosby toyed with the handle of his coffee cup. A moment later he looked up and said briskly, “Well, I’ll have to be running along now.” The look of panic in the girl’s face must have made him repent. The young man glanced across the table. It was one of the few times during the interview that their eyes had met. Crosby looked uncomfortable. He leaned forward. “Gypsy,” he said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. We used to have some good times together before I went away, didn’t we? “Took ourselves pretty seriously then. Thought we were grown up. Lord —do you remember how we used to argue over every topic under the sun? Oh, it was fun! Grand fun, only it seems crazy now. “What I mean to say, of course, is, it was just kid stuff. School boy and school girl affair. You feel that way about it, too, don’t you?” “Why—yes ” It was what he wanted her to say. It was what he expected of her. Gypsy’s head was swimming. “Fine. I was sure you did onlywell, I thought I’d better mention it. You’re a great little kid, Gypsy, and I like you! Great kid. Pretty, too. Got a lot of new beaux I’ll bet. “Marry a rich one some day and forget all about the struggling young artist you used to know.” Obviously the strain had been removed. Crosby was smiling, speaking with animation now. The girl tried to play the part. Pride—surely she would cling to pride yet. She smiled —at least her lips tried to smile. Crosby did not seem to notice the grotesque result. “Os course, Alan, I know it was just kid stuff.” “Yes, but we had great times. I’ll never forget them. I’ve got to settle down to work now. Work hard. That’s one reason I’m moving away from Mrs. O’Hare’s.” A pain like a knife thrust cut Gypsy’s heart. Was it all a nightmare? Was she really hearing these words? Crosby’s face had become a cloudy blur. “Where are you going?" she asked uncertainly. “East Twenty-third street. I’ve got a room over there that isn’t much, but it will do. Moving in with another fellow from the office.” Crosby, thus launched on a confidential vein, continued: “Mrs. Langley’s going to introduce me to a lot of people who can help me—people who have influence. That’s what it takes to get ahead in New York. “She been great to me, Gypsy. Naturally you can see how I felt last night! But don’t worry about that now—everything’s all right. I’m going to see her tonight.” By clinging with both icy hands to the edge of the seat Gypsy found she could endure the pain. “Tell me about her,” she said. A shade of embarrassment .rossed the young man’s face.

“I’d have told you before,” he said, "only I didn’t know Just how you’d feel. She’s wonderful, Gypsy. Met her two months ago in Paris. she’s interested in art. She’s got money and could spend all her time having a good time, but instead she likes to help art students and young musicians. She’s the one who really got me my Job at Thomas’. ‘Tm going to do a sketch of her. If you only knew her, Gypsy, you’d understand how wonderful she is.” "Are you—in love with her?” Crosby shrugged his shoulders. “What if I was?” he asked. “She’s got everything and I haven’t a cent.” “But she must care for ytu, Alan!” He smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Well—really I’ve got to dash along.” He glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes late already! Are you going up the street?” a a a /’'VNLY a self-centered young man, impatient to be on his way, would have failed to note the misted eye-lashes, the too-bright smile. Gypsy shook her head. "Goodby,” she said. "Don’t wait for me. I’m—l’m not going home for a while." Crosby had picked up the suit case. "See you later then. Give you a ring some day. Good night!” He turned. She watched his back as he disappeared through the door. Gypsy, who had a horror of crying, was afraid she would disgrace herself. After a while she arose and walked out of the store. One or two persons eyed her curiously. Gypsy, looking neither to left nor right, walked out into the street. Instead of turning toward the rooming house she took the opposite direction. She walked until she was cold, until she found herself in a neighborhood where she never had been before. A policeman gave her directions and she took the subway home. She crept up to her room silently, afraid someone would stop her in the hall. Luck was with her and she reached the little fourth floor room without interruption. Gypsy undressed and got into bed, but the sky was graying with dawn before she finally slept. When she opened her eyes at 7:30 she stirred sleepily, sat up in bed and all last night’s memories returned. Alan had gone. Everything was over. Getting dressed and getting to work was an ordeal. Somehow Gypsy did both. She had never realized how much she hated the MacNamara Company office, how much she hated pounding a typewriter. At 11 o’clock Elizabeth Tuttle came bustling up to Gypsy’s desk. “Miss Mcßride,” she said, "I’m afraid you were careless with these letters yesterday. Mr. Reynolds was disappointed.” She held out two typed pages with glaring blue penciled circles. "You surely can not expect me to promote you on such work?” “No,” Miss Tuttle,” she said, T don’t expect it. I’m resigning—today!” “But my dear young woman, you can’t ” Gypsy was half-way to the door. "No?” she asked, turning. "Who’s going to stop me?” ' And then the door shut with a bang. (To Be Continued.) Snow Helps 1,600 Jobless By Times Special HAMMOND, Ind., March 11. A call by radio brought 1,600 men to work in railroad yards here shoveling snow. For many, it was the first employment they had had in several months.

STICKERS

E_.S_C.AJP £ s. C. ; JT ! A _J= P. jl e|sltle|e|m V- Can you complete this word square *o§ that the words will read the same from ? left to right as from top to bottom?

Answer for Yesterday

219438657 -y As shown above, the nine digits are placed in such order that the first three form the number 219, which is one-third of the last three (657) and the central three (438) is the result of subtracting the first three from the last three. v l 0

TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION

The high priest paused. He cast a halfdefiant, half-frightened look at the cloud obscuring the face of the sun. Slowly he rose. Extending his arms upward toward the hidden god of day he remained silent in an attitude of rapt attention for fully five minutes. Suddenly he addressed his followers: “Begone!” he cried. “The Flaming God has spoken. He is not angered. He but wishes to speak to me alone.” Obediently the lesser priests turned and melted into f the jungle, leaving Cadj alone with his helpless enemy. ■ '.'V"

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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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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A crafty smile lighted Cadj’s cruel face as his companions disappeared. Again he turned to the ape-man. Yet an inherent fear of his deity restrained his hand until the light of the sun-god should shine forth upon him once more. Six times he raised his knife for the fatal blow. Each time his superstition prevented the keen blade from descending. Now, at last, he could see the cloud was nearing the edge of the sun. He stood, ready for the moment when the sunlight should flood again for the last time the living. Tarzan.

—By Ahern

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As the cloud slowly swept away, a look of demoniacal hatred shone in Cadj’s close-set wicked eyes. Another instant, and the Flaming God would set the seal of his approval upon the sacrifice. Cadj trembled in malevolent anticipation. He raised the knife higher, his muscles tensed for the downward plunge. And then the jungle silence was broken by a woman’s voice, raised almost to a scream, “Cadj!” came the single word,/but with all the and shock of lightning from a summer sky.

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

The high priest turned quickly at the interruption to see at the clearing’s edge the figure of La, the high priestess. Behind her stood a score of the lesser priests. “What means this, Cadj?” demanded La. Sullenly the high priest spoke: “The Flaming God demanded the life of this unbeliever.” "Speaker of lies!” retorted La, “the Flaming God talks with men through the lips of his high priestess only." She came quite close to Cadj now. Wrath lay like a thundercloud on her lovely face and a note of imperious scorn rang in her voice.

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin