Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 298, Indianapolis, Marion County, 23 April 1931 — Page 10

PAGE 10

'MAD MARRIAGE-11 1 */ LAURA LOU BROOKMAN Author of^EART HUNGRY,’etc.

BEGIN nEBE TODAY GYPSY M'BRIDE, 19-jear-old New York typist, msrrles JIM WALLACE the a®* after she meets him at the home of her wealthy cousin. ANN TROWBRIDGE. Gypsy has been Jilted by ALAN CROSBY. Just returned from a year and a half In Paris studying art. Wallace’s fiancee hat broken their engaement to msrry a richer man. Jim and Gypsy go to Forest City, where Jim has a thriving law practice. His relatives snub Oypsy. Alan Crosby writes to her but she returns the letter unopened. MARCIA LORING Jim's former fiancee, marries BROCK PHILLIPS, millionaire's son. Months lias* and Brock Phillips Is killed in a fall from a horse. Marcia returns to Forest City. She consults Jim about financial affairs and later tells him her marriage to Phillips was a mistake. Jim tries to remain loyal to Gypsy but sees Marcia frequently. Hurt because she believes Jim has taken Marcia Phillips to lunch. Gypsy accepts FRANK GIBSON'S Invitation to drive her home from a shopping trip. There * collision and Gypsy’s foot Is Injured. Another motorist takes her home and when they arrive there Gypsy faints. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER FORTY-TWO "My name’s Mason,” the other man volunteered. ‘‘Fred Mason. I live In Somerset. The young lady seems to have hurt her foot badly and I think she ought to get to a doctor.” “Are you hurt, Mrs. Wallace?” Gibson demanded, for the first time showing interest in the girl. a u tt “TT'S my ankle. The left one,” JL she told him. "Otherwise I guess I’m all right.” “You’d better let me take you two into Forest City,” Mason suggested. "You'll have to have help with that car anyhow. Looks to me like a bad smash-up.” "Looks like a wreck all right,” Gibson agreed. ‘l’m Frank Gibson, Mr. Mason, and this is Mrs. Wallace. “If you could take her back to town and let me off at the nearest farm house it would certainly be a big favor. I can telephone the garage and get someone out here before dark—” Mason nodded. “O. K. with me,” he said. The two men climbed into the front seat of the touring car and Mason started the engine. In ten minutes they drew up beside a farm house. Gibson walked to the door and knocked. A moment later someone answered. He waved, signaling the other to go on, and entered the house. Gypsy’s foot was throbbing. At every jerk and jolt as the car moved along she clenched her fists and tried to keep from crying out. Tears came into her eyes and she did not bother to brush them away. Sometimes the pain was too great she could not help moaning. As they neared the city limits Mason turned. “Where do you want me to take you, Mrs. Wallace?” "I’d like to go to my own home,” 6he said, and gave him the address. "Don’t you think you'd better 6top at a doctor’s office?” “No, thank you. All I want is to get home!” She leaned back and closed her eyes. If only this would prove to be a nightmai'e! If only 6he could open her eyes and .find that the hideous afternoon had been a dream! u tt a IT was not a dream. The pain in her foot told her that. She looked out and discovered that the rain had stopped. Dusk was gathering. It must be nearly 6 o’clock. "This the place?” Mason asked, slowing the car before a brick dwelling. "No. The next house. There’s a driveway leading in.” A moment later the car halted. Mason got out, but before he had reached the porch the front door opened. Jim Wallace appeared. “Who is it you wanted to see?” Jim asked. He looked at the car. Gypsy—” he exclaimed excitedly “What's happened? What’s the matter?” “Mrs Wallace was in an accident,” Mason explained. “I came along a few minutes later and she asked me to bring her here. “I’m afraid one of her ankles may be broken or badly sprained. You’d better call a doctor.” Jim Wallace rushed past him. "Tell me what happened, Gypsy,” he demanded. “It’s—nothing, Jim. I’ll be all right.” He helped her from the car, his arm around her. For an instant she steadied herself against him, looking up into his face. “It’s nothing.” she repeated in a weak voice. Immediately she fainted.

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THERE was a light burning beside the bed. Gypsy became aware of it and was annoyed slightly. The light was a nuisance. All she wanted was to go asleep again. The covers felt soft and warm. She could drift back into slumber if it were not for the light. Sleep! What a blessing it would be to sleep forever—!” She stirred and a twinge of pain shot through her body. The light remained there. She could reach out and turn it off, but the exertion was unthinkable. Gypsy lay quiet for several moments. Vague thoughts began to trouble her. There was something she could not remember quite clearly. Something that had happened. The girl opened her eyes. Why had she imagined anything was wrong? She was here in her own room. Everything was the same. Then she saw Matilda sitting in the shadow across the room. “Matilda,” she asked, “what time is it?” The woman came to the bedside. “Don’t you worry about the time,” she said. “Do you feel better, ma’am?” “My shoulder hurts,” the girl said, “and my ankle. Wliat’s the matter, Matilda? What happened?” “It was an accident. The doctor came and he said you were to lie still and try to rest. You’ll feel better In the morning.’’ “Oh—l’m beginning to remember.” Gypsy lay silent for a time. An accident. She remembered that very clearly now. The crash in Frank Gibson’s car. Yes, she remembered everything. “You didn’t tell me what time it was,” she reminded the woman. “It’s nearly 8 o’clock. Ten minutes till 8. Don’t you think you might sleep some more?” Gypsy closed her eyes but she did not sleep. She was fully awake now. Presently she asked: “Where’s Mr. Wallace? Did he have dinner on time?” “It was ready, but he waited until after the doctor came. He’s been awful worried about you, Mrs. Wallace.” “Is he here now?” “Down stairs in the library.” “Will you ask him to come up, please?” Matilda cast a troubled look at her mistress, then went quietly from the room. Gypsy looked about her. Except for the orange-shaded lamp at the side of the bed the room was in darkness. She glanced down and saw that she was wearing one of her fragile, lace-trimmed night gowns. It was a yellow one. She moved and felt the pain in her ankle once more. a a THERE were footsteps in the hall. Jim Wallace’s tall figure appeared in the doorway. “Feeling better?” “I think so.” “The ankle’s sprained Doc says if you’re careful it will be all right in a week or ten days. Have to stay off your feet for a while. “The other bruises will make you feel stiff for a few days, but they’re nothing to worry about.” “Sit down, Jim,” Gypsy said. “Bring the chair over here where I can see you.” He drew a low rocking chair nearer to the bed and sat down. Gypsy eyed him seriously. “Do you know how it happened?” she asked. “You were with Gibson,” Jim answered promptly. He was not looking at her, “The man who brought you home—Mason—told me.” The girl nodded. “I was downtown,” she said, “when it began to rain.” I didn’t even remember who he was when he spoke to me. Then I knew. He offered to bring me home in his car and it seemed silly to say ‘no.’ “After we started he said it would be cool to drive out on the Somerset road. I wouldn’t have gone except for a special reason —” Her words broke off. Wallace was looking at her curiously. “What was the special reason?” he asked. Gypsy did not speak for several moments. “It’s —a little hard to tell you,” she went on finally. “I made up my mind this afternoon to go away.” “To go away where?” “I don’t know. Anywhere. I decided to go away so that you and Marcia Phillips—l mean so that I

wouldn’t be an obstacle to your happiness. “I was going to tell you about It tonight. The sprained ankle doesn’t need to make any difference. I can leave in a few days just the same.” a st “DUT where are you going? I O haven’t the faintest idea what you’re driving at, Gypsy. You’re not an obstacle to my happiness! You’re—you must be delirious! Maybe it’s the stuff Doc gave you to make you sleep.” The girl shook her head. “I know what I’m saying,” she assured him. “You see, something happened this afternoon. I mean beftye I met Mr. Gibson. “I was talking to Abbie Manley and she told me about seeing you at the Pine Grove inn last Monday with Marcia Phillips.” “At the Pine Grove inn? Gypsy, I tell you you’re out of your head! I haven’t been any place with Marcia Phillips. Did Abbie Manley tell you a yam like that—!” Gypsy sighed. “I told you It was going to be hard to explain,” she said. “Abbie didn’t mean to make trouble. She saw you and thought I was with you. I didn’t even let her know it wasn’t I. ‘She said something about me having a blue dress and that’s how I knew it must be Marcia.” “But, good God!—l tell you I didn’t have lunch with Marcia. I haven’t even seen her all week! I’ll let Abbie Manley know what I think of spreading stories like this!” “Don’t Jim! Abbie didn’t mean any harm. I tell you she thought we were together. She still thinks so. Only you must have been there. She said you were facing her and the girl had on a blue dress.” WALLACE paused. “Monday,” he repeated musingly. “Let’s see, where did I have lunch on Monday?” He frowned slightly. Suddenly a light seemed to dawn. “I know!” he exclaimed. “Os course. I was with Bill Breckenridge and we went to the Pine Grove inn. Breckenridge always eats there. After we had ordered his wife came in and joined us. She must have had on a blue dress. , “I don’t remember that. But it’s odd Abbie couldn’t have noticed there was another man at the table.” “Maybe she did. She didn’t say anything about that though. Oh, Jim, then it wasn’t Marcia!” The girl’s voice died almost to a whisper. She was very pale and her dark eyes seemed to grow larger. They looked at each other and in that steady gaze many things seemed to be said. “It wasn’t Marcia,” Jim repeated after her, “So that’s why you decided to go away?” A bit shamefacedly Gypsy nodded. “I thought you wanted me to,” she admitted. “Is that why you went for a drive with Gibson?” Another nod. And like sunshine after a quick storm her face lighted with a mischievous smile. “I did that because I thought you didn’t want me to.” Both of them laughed. “You won’t try to run away again, will you?” Jim asked. “Not with a sprained ankle,” the girl told him. She was smiling, but there were tears in her eyes. (To Be Continued)

■STICKERS ONAIINOTOCEAY. Fill <n the letter D nine times, is (fee proper places, and you will make a sentence that will explain why a little lad got l_ a spanking. z*.

Answer for Yesterday

■> 7S f l\^/3 Starting at the large dot, follow die * numbers and the direction of the arrows and you will find one way of making the design in a continuous line, without go ing over the same line twice and without lifting the pencil from the paper.

TARZAN AND THE

Swarming down the jungle trail came the long awaited Gomangani reinforcements. “JUST IN TIME’” exclaimed Tarzan of the Apes. “Hasten!” he shouted, “the Bolgani are upon us. Come and avenge your wrongs.” Calling the other blacks about him, the ape-man leaped forward to meet the oncoming gorillamen. Behind him, wave after wave of Gomangani rolled through the east gate of the Palace of Diamonds, carrying everything before them.

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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OLDEN LION

The shouting and fighting worked Jad-bal-ja into such a frenzy that Tarzan with difficulty restrained him from springing upon friend and foe alike. And so frantic were the Gomangani with the bloodlust of revenge, and so enthused with the first fruit of victory that they went fully as mad as the golden lion himself. The watering wall of Bolgani was hurled back. No quarter was given and the fighting ended only when the last lay dead.

—By Ahem

The battle o’er, Tarzan with' his followers returned to the throne room from which the fumes of the smoke bombs had now disappeared. He summoned the headmen of each village to appear before him. “Gomangani of the Valley of the Palace of Diamonds,” he addressed them, “ this night have you won your freedom from the beast-masters that have oppressed you for so long. You have no leader capable of ruling you wisely and welL Choose one now."

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“YOU! YOU!” cried voice after voice as the headmen clamored to elect Tarzan their king. “That may not be,” replied the ape-man, "but there is one who has lived among you, knows your customs and hopes. He will m n v- P you a good king,” and Tarzan pointed to the old man. But he of the grey beard looked at Tarzan in bewilderment. “Surely you will not desert me," he cried, “back would I go into the world of civilization from whicu all these years I have been.hurled.”

.APRIL 23, 1931

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin