Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 49, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 July 1931 — Page 11

‘JULY 7. 1931.

Heart °fLiane hi/ MABEL MCELUOTT /

BEGIN HERE TODAY LIANE BARRETT, daughter o t CASH BARRETT an actress, goes with her mother to Willow Stream, L. 1., for the dimmer. Her mother is Dlsvlng In •took. At Willow Stream Lianne meets CLIVT: CLEESPAUOH •or-, of the wealthy patroness of the theater. ELSIE MINTER. the Ingenue •trive* for Clive’s Interest. Llane’s Imagination has been ensnared by a handsome stranger who calls her by name one night at the theater. She meets him later at a party at the home of MURIEL LADD, debutante who shares box office duties with her. His name Is VAN ROBARD. Llane falls In love with him. Cass, hearing his name, asks Llane never to see him • again without giving a reason. MRS CLEESPAUOH asks Llane to atav with her as her companion In the fall. CHUCK DESMOND, newspaper reporter, takes Murlei dancing one night, and Mrs. Ladd sends Rohard after the pair, thinking they have eloped. Liane goes with Ttobard and he makes love to her. One night she courageously repels robbers at the theater box office. Elsie tells Mane that Robard Is attentive to Muriel’s mother and the girl Is crushed. When Cass Is packing Llane discovers a picture In her mother’s trunk and Is told It Is of Cass' dead sister Luisa. Cass Is mysterious about her. Llane goes to stay with Mrs Cleespaugh and finds that Clive and his mother d> not get along. NOW <iO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWELVE. THE problem of Clive’s attitude toward his mother remained for the moment unsolved. Llane went dutifully to lunch with the old lady on the day of the flareup. Outwardly there was no ruffling of the calm waters, but the young girl sensed a resentment so deep her patron could not bring herself to speak: of it. And yet, Liane thought, Clive had been in the right. His mother had spoken to him as if he were the veriest schoolboy. “She’s kind," reflected the young girl shrewdly, "but she must have her own way.” Perhaps Clive had been letting her have it for years in matters large and small and now, at 24, was coming to see that he could bear this state'of affairs no longer. "It doesn’t matter to me,” thought Liane rather wistfully. “I’m her guest, her protege, and naturally I must respect all her wishes. But for a man grown to knuckle under and do exactly as she commands him—that would be shameful.” Yes. Liane respected Clive more now that she had seen him “stand up” to his mother. If Mrs. Cleespaugh’s white head was held a trifle higher, if her tone that day, addressing the maids, grew sharper and more autocratic, her manner toward Liane at least was not affected. “I like her, but I see through her too.” thought Liane with affectionate amusement. She was a very proud old woman. She was what the girls at the convent had called “bossy.” Bossiness generally went to the head. The more one’s underlings submitted to dictates the more one ordered them around. “That boy’s no fool,” decided Llane, thinking of Clive, and wondered why Elsie had thought he was. “He has a backbone.” She liked him the better for it. Liane saw little of the young man. Occasionally she had a glimpse of Clive in a turtle-necked sweater, in stained and worn brown ridding breeches, galloping down the lane of a soft September morning. He would nod to her in a friendly yet distant manner, swinging off his .soft hat in salutation. She would tramp through the fallen pine needles, kicking the tiny acorns with her sturdy brown shoes, thinking how fortunate she*was to live in such a beautiful and luxurious world, while her mother went wandering. Liane was saving her money now. She was living quietly and demurely. The hurly-burly, amusing life of town, of scrambled meals and hand-me-down frocks, became a sort of dim dream. a tt a SOMETIMES at night when she had gone to bed early and could not sleep she would shut her eyes to keep out the pictures that came to her. Shane McDermid, big in his blue uniform, his eyes shining 6temly at her. Van Robard in his dinner clothes, bending over her hand. No, she would not think of Van! She had heard Clive say over the hall telephone one day, “Van?” Oh, he’s at Burlir.game I believe. Be back about Christmas time.” Nor did she catch glimpses of Muriel any more. Mrs. Cleespaugh “thoroughly disapproved” of Muriel Ladd. “Have you heard” she asked Liane in a shocked voice, “of her

HORIZONTAL YESTERDAY’S ANSWER 23 Commander. 1 Who Is the IhRItTRIeTDI [sTtTiTtTcThl 24 Rhythmical bead of the |c ÜBE OMeMuMsTo L ARI swings. S2!S2 n t # *7h. 6M & NliM E A RfrliPlu R E 27 Mortgage. Krfrth Snip? h P A iff ARK EjFqSWB EG 29 Pertaining to ( . !?' I tb , P ? J "IINMN O gMeHIyIAIPMS E gull family. • Only state to ljJq gff mff 5 •how a de- p S jrj JHg p- 32 To divide. crease in popu- tSf | r e 34 New Haven la latlon during IE ME k the Beat of. last 10 years, h UU UM I University ? 15 To estrange. U P H *1 1 I 1 36 Sandy. 17 Fear. SE £ gJH >§4& £ £ 37 Leaf of the 18 Diminutive. IMjATIBL IfT E R AjLBBR| j_|D[ ca^yx. 19 Mover’s trucks., iPIEIPPINfIEI |T| 1181 i IAILI 39 Toward. 21 To hesitate. > 40 Famous pianist 22 To devour. orth t eas *: P lc poem, and composer. 23 Intellectual. J? £ ra " Blated * 3 Cotton fiber - 42 Riotous feast 25 Ripped. 4 Lock opener. 44 Fork tines. 26 Road. H p^ a JI w 6 Within. 46 Trained at--27 Minor note. * ' 6 Hub. tendact for the 28 Satan. Jf Ottoman court. 7To en dure. sick. 50 Inlet * J* 9 Exclamation. 48 Marked. 51 Privation. lOTobcw. 50 Triple. S3 Servo-motor. ™ £™” a „ 11 Weight allow- 52 Collection of 85 Senior. t *nce. horses. 36 Abolishes. 4 Sewing imple- j o Coat of mail. 54 Close. 18 Valley bottom. „ ™ ents - 13 To furnish nu- 55 Conceited pre* 40 Credit 6i > Deepens a river trimenL c | sion . 41 At no time. D> mat Hnery- 14 Balance over- 57 Snaky fish. 43 Fodder vat VERTICAL due. 59 To fi n i ß h. 45 Fowl. 1 Sprinkles. 16Tocomein. 61 Southeast 47 To repulse. 2 Famous Greek 20 Prevents waste. 63 Second note.

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latest conquest? The gossip papers say she is ‘that way’ about Cnrtis Blue. Such a cliarming person I thought him. What can he see in that hobbledehoy? Muriel is an extremely indiscreet young woman and I disapprove of her.” To hear the glib expressions of the scandal sheets on the correct tongue of Mrs. Cleespaugh was disconcerting. Llane wanted to smile but dare not. “She’s—fascinating,” she ventured. anent the dashing Muriel. “Oh, fascinating!” Mrs. Cleespaugh’s tone expressed nothing but sheer disgust. “I fail to see why that word should be applied to such a flibbertygibbet.” Then she set her lips and refused to say another word. Once and only once Llane saw Muriel flash by in her streamline car. Her gypsy scarf had been discarded. She wore the more sober but still dashing habiliments of town. Little brown hat. Beautifully cut j tweeds. A fur scarf, the cost of i which would have bought Liane Barrett shoes for five years. Muriel threw a careless greeting at her erstwhile co-worker. “She’s forgotten me,” Liane thought with a little pain at her heart. Liane wanted desperately someone who was young and frivolous in whom to confide. Muriel obviously had no time for her. “I wonder,” said Mrs. Cleespaugh, suddenly one morning resuming the subject, “what has happened to that young newspaper man—wasn’t his name Desmond?—whom Muriel was supposed to be so fond of? “I heard Adele Ladd was terrified for fear they would elope last summer. The girl is a will-o’-the-wisp, that’s certain. One would respect her more if her affections were more permanent.” Liane had wondered, too, about Chuck Desmond. Occasionally she saw the paper in which his “Roving Reviews” were printed. He wrote with a bright irony which seemed to her excessively brilliant. She remembered gratefully his protection on the night the Danish electrician roughly had embraced her. “He was—rather nice,” Liane said. “Was he really? Mrs. Cleespaugh enjoyed a good gossip. “Do tell me. I didn’t know you’d ever met the man.” Liane flushed. ‘He came along,” she said with a show of reluctance, “one when a man at the theater was being—unpleasant. ” 'My dear child, that sounds terrifically thrilling,” said the old lady, her eyes lighing. “Oh, it was nothing. But he was really rather knightly about it,” said the yonng girl, dimpling at the recollection. “Well, I said at the time and I say now Adele Ladd might’ve done worse with her daughter,” declared Mrs. Cleespaugh with relish. “From what one hears, Muriel would be better off safely married than she is running about the country* heaven knows where, at all hours of the day or night.’ ’ “I somehow don’t think marriage would change Muried very greatly,” Liane ventured. a a a THE old lady looked solemn. “It changes us all, my dear,” she said with gravity. “One takes on dignity. Or rather, one should.” She frowned as if in deep dissatisfaction tapping her morning newspaper. “Not that one would believe in dignity after reading the list of divorce cases these days,” she added bitterly. “Marriage means less than nothing, apparently, to the daughters of my friends.” Mrs. Cleespaugh sighed sharply. “If Clive should ever make such a mess of his life—really, I don’t know what I should do!” She frowned again. “But that’s an unpleasant subject,” she said, dismissing it. Looking at Liane shrewdly and kindly she went on: * . “You’re very young, my dear, but somehow I think you would take marriage in a most serious way than most of the girls of my acquaintance.” “Oh, if I loved,” murmured Liane confusedly, “if I loved it would be at once and forever.” Sher raised her shining eyes, deep and long

lashed, to the older woman’s. “I believe In lasting love, don't you?” Mrs. Cleespaugh regarded her with fondness. She said very firmly, “I certainly do. Not a doubt to It.” Neither of the two had heard a light step on the threshold of the morning room where they sat with the accounts. A vibrant voice with an undercurrent of mirth in it in- ; terrupted: “Interesting to hear two women talking of love In the early hours.” Llane, startled, looked full into the deep-set eyes of Van Robard. She gave one startled movement, tumbling the check book and the sheaf of bills. Almost they fell into the fire from which the screen stood a little aside. Van stooped, still smiling, to retrieve them as Mrs. Cleespaugh, not altogether pleased at the interruption, I greeted him. “Well, I must say ” she began ; rather crossly. “This is a great ' surprise for all of us.” Van, handsome in his traveling tweeds, leaned over and kissed her audaciously on the cheek. “No very gracious, Eva. are you?” he inquired. “I’m delighted to see you, naturally,” protested Mrs. Cleespaugh not too convincingly. “But why must you walk in unannounced? Why not use the telephone? You young people are so casual, so imperative.” Van appealed to Liane who, crimson and pale by turns, had resumed her place at the desk. “She calls me a young person,” he mocked. “And I’ll never see 30 again. I’m deeply flattered.” But Liane refused to smile at him. She gathered up her papers to leave. “I’ll get back to all this after luncheon,” Mrs. Cleespaugh said more affably. Van stood at the door, holding it wide for Liane to pass. As she departed he said, so low no one else could hear: “Sweet thing, I had to come back to see you.” a a a T lANE dressed for dinner that evening in a fever of excitement. She had only two dinner dresses. One was a limp pink one (it had been Elsie’s) and the other was a demure white chiffon which, now denuded of the sleeves the good sisters had deemed modest, had been her “class day” dress. After surveying the two distastefully, Liane chose the white. She had a string of artificial pearls and since Nora had left a cluster of red roses In a crystal vase on the oldfashioned dressing table, she decided to wear a knot of these on her shoulder. She bathed In haste. Everything she picked up she clumsily dropped that night. “Fingers all thumbs,” she grumbled in disgust. She was terrifically nervous. Her hair didn t suit her. She let down the bronze-gold cloud three times and twisted it up again before it was done to her satifaction. - ‘ Maybe he won’t even appear at dinner,” she told herself. And “if mother knew, she would want me to go away.” To her amazement she had discovered at luncheon that Robard was to be a house guest of Mrs vfleespaugh’s. “He’s a distant relative of mine,” her hostess had explained. “His mother was my second cousin. We had the same great-grandmother. A charming rascal, he is. So good-looking and so unreliable.” Liane had burned to ask In what Robard’s unreliability had consisted, but had not dared to evince so much interest in the visitor. “Maybe he won’t be here for dinner at all,” she reminded herself “Probably he’s invited to the Ladds’.” She thought of what Elsie had said about Van Robard being Adele Ladd’s admirer and winced at the remembrance.

(To Be Continaed)

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’ Answer for Yesterday

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TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES'

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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Not the time ripe to slay the sheik, who alone knew the secret place of Nimmr's riches. Instead. Fahd aimed at the pole of the sheik’s tent. The prop splintered and broke above Ibn Jad’s head. Simultaneously Fahd threw down the musket and leaped upon the sjhrtled Zeyd at the same time dying loudly for

—By Ahern

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OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Just then Tollog discovered Zeyd’s musket lying where Fahd had dropped it. The sheik’s visage grew stern. "Tell me thou didst not do it,* cried Ateja. “By Mohammed, I did not!" protested Zeyd. But the evidence was against him, and Ibn Jad commanded: "Take him away and see that he is bound securely.’*

PAGE 11

—By Williama

—By Blosser

—By Crane’

—By Small

—By; Martin