Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 56, Indianapolis, Marion County, 15 July 1931 — Page 8

PAGE 8

Heart of / inne C '■

- 1 . Wh,n 0 Ult „ L I da fn? Vh r LIANE to Willow Stream! C'icLrdfrn™ the girl Jusa hai an 'inplrasant experience •*?? brawl b wh. :,resent durlDK n fPeak- / FHANEMrnr h BUTn a man *** shot, t '! rL,. P E ? MID ' young police oJTI.Me man Vifi Uve* ISl ® nd 10 teU Lia:le Incets ?mlc WnD ' 3 house. Liane • a n>V*terloua stranger she ha* i and caw Won £? u VAN ROBAKd! u “' g .i£r.%Jc K “'S&D h V .KJ-'w after " the 1 £!£?• EADD Snatches vtri '“*• &‘S!,h BSJ £S! iSmlm itTrShS™' v,n “ a M '> CLEFSP/uirnio° , sUv . wi,h wealthy 1 CLIVE CLlSl*r?r- he l a,t . sh ' >‘kes 1 on 1 “EESPAUGH. who does not get Murti • hls mother. News comes of The a/me® H’ mrr V l ,0 Van R°hnrd. * ik.Au , Bai 7?P day Liane learns of her ?ltaf r ri nM ‘P .Philadelphia ho" J? . Css nearly dies, but is P.naliy lnidat* k ac “Y to llfr Mrs. Clcesnaugh insists on her returning to Willow Stream to convalesce. •iSiY/Lt as lL* t-hme to marr7 him and lr ra nf'/m, h l "' flr ;t offended ct the Lrcsn?s a „J?,* rrl ? Ke of convenience, she comforts. Dßrflv t 0 DrovWe her mother NOW GO ON WITH TIIE STORY

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (Continued) CJive seemed to like that. They flrove to what he called a "shoppy,” where they bought the bed jacket, a froth rff pink satin and creamcolored lace, and anew bock and a thin box of mints, Cass’ favorite candy. \ ou’re nice,” Liane said to the young man as they turned homeward. Said it simply, matter-of-factly, quite without coquetry. She meant it. "You think so—honestly? You’ve |jot over being mad at me!” "I was never—exactly mad,” tiiane confessed, looking up at him With candid, troubled eyes. "I w'as confused and startled at the whole idea. I didn’t kow exactly how to take it.” . “I’m a clumsy oaf,” Clive said, gripping the wheel grimly with those lean brown hands of his. Liane said, "You weren’t, but I thought you were ragging me and J didn't like it. The whole thing 60unded —well, fantastic.” i “Fantastic, eh? You thought that?” There, drat the boy! He was turning grumpy again. "The idea of marrying me w’as fantastic!” His laugh grated a little. Liane sat up suddenly, said quite feharply above the roar of the motor, “You know I didn’t mean that! Why will you be so difficult? I meant that the idea of your marrying me was extraordinary. Cophetua and the beggar maid.” She thought compassionately that hhe knew why this young man was so moody, so mercurial. He had the tortured temperament of the very shy. She knew she was right when his smile came drifting back, when he looked down at her again with the light of companionship in his eyes. "Don’t talk such rot,” he said humbly. ‘‘You’re miles too good for me and you ought to know it.” “Thanks for the ad!” The mintote she said that she was sorry. It was like Muriel—a cheap echo of the jazz girl with the thousand scalps at her belt. But the young man didn’t seem i to notice. He drove on through the golden afternoon. Out of his deep reverie he said with abruptness, “Let’s announce our engagement before Tressa Lord arrives?” it B B THE new girl w T as all in gray. Gray kidskin coat wrapped tightly about her long slimness. Gray kidskin turban coquettishly draped over her green eyes. Gray reptile skin shoes smartly shrieking of the Rue do la Paix. Very smart she seemed, very asteured and chill and just a trifle amused. Nora and the new downstair maid, Eileen, were staggering upstairs under a load of luggage. Liane, from the upper hall, observed the newcomer's easy air of •proprietorship as she moved about stripping off her gloves, laughing at something Mrs. Cleespaugh had said. When Liane came dow r n fifteen taiinutes later, Tressa Lord was pouring tea and looking as though she never had sat anywhere else than behind the old Sheffield urn. Liane felt gauche and school-girlish as she was presented. “My ward, Liane Barrett,” Mrs. Cleespaugh said affectionately. Tressa Lord gave her a piercing glance of inquiry, taking her in from the top of her bronze gold head to the tips of her old brown brogues. “So glad—” she murmured with

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an air of dismissing the younger girl. Her sister, Mrs. Amberton, was a highly colored woman with a richly massaged look. She might have been 35—she might have been ten years older. One couldn’t tell. She prattled on in an affected voice of their stay at Nice, the “charming men” they had met on the boat, the terrible time they had had getting through the customs. "And where’s the darling boy?” she asked at last. "Clive was so sorry. He had to go into town on business. He will be here for dinner.” Mrs. Amberton sighed in satisfaction. She cast an arch look at Tressa who ignored it. "This dear child,” Mrs. Ambertcr. purred, stretching out her hand toward her sister, "has been so sought after—so frantically wooed—by half a dozen darling boys that she's in sad need of a rest. Dancing till all hours. Every human soul we knew r seemed to be in Paris just before we left.” Tressa lit a cigaret and stared out of the window. “Let’s change,” she said, abruptly. “I’m dead. Darling Eva,” this with an abrupt change of manner as she turned to Mrs. Cleespaugh, "you’re so sweet to have us here!” Mrs. Cleespaugh looked properly gratified. "Liane, dear, would you mind showing Tressa and Fanny to their rooms? I’ve given them places in the new wing. It’s a great deal more comfortable. Liane and her mother are next to me in the old rooms.” Tressa arched her brow. Mrs. Amberton said politely, "Ah, Miss Barrett’s mother is here then?” "Yes. She’s been very ill and I persuaded her to come here until she’s strong. You must meet her when she can see guests. Such a sweet person. I’m so found of her.” Liane was leading the way. She felt the visitor’s suspicion and dislike and stiffened herself to meet it. Tressa said as she left them, "So kind of you, Miss Barrett.” It was the tone she might have used to an upper servant. CHAPTER NINETEEN LIANE stood outside the door for a moment, catching her breath. She clenched and unclenched her small hands. "I hate her,” she said to herself. "Oh, I hate her!” She had said no to Olive’s proposal that they announce their engagement before the arrival of Miss Lord and her sister. Now she wished she hadn’t. That would have given her at least a sort of standing. It would have been a protection against snubs. She went into her mother’s room now and shut the door softly behind her. Cass was sleeping. The shadows under her eyes had almost disappeared. Liane had a sudden wild desire to snatch her up, to dash back to the ■ shabby litle flat in West Sixtyeighth street where they had been so poverty-stricken and oftentimes so happy. But she knew that she couldn’t do that. No, she must go through with this preposterous agreement. She had given her word and she must keep it. # tt tt “ W HO does that Liane girl look ▼ V like?” Fanny Amberton was saying as she brushed her short black hair and pressed the wave in with skillful fingers. ‘Don't know,” Tressa answered shortly. “Like no one I know. Why?” "It’s rather perplexing,” mused her sister, wriggling into a black net frock. “I could swear I’ve talked to her —known her before. Bur, of course it’s nonsense. She’s little more than a child.” "Nineteen,” Tressa said and laughed shortly, “A highly improbable age!” "My dear,” murmured Fanny Amberton significantly, “do you realize Clive will be 25 soon after the first of the year?” "I do.” There was something unpleasant about Tressa’s brief laugh. Fanny made up her lips meticulously. “He’ll have—well, millions!” she said. Tressa stood in the doorway of the bath which connected the two rooms the sisters occupied. She wrapped a citron colored nelgigee, sheer and tight and dripping creamcolored lace, tightly around her. Her silver blond hair, adroitly shingled,

glistened against the background of raspberry tiles. Finny exclaimed artlessly, “My dear, you’re like something in the colored advertising pages.” Tressa glanced at herself in the long mirror of the door. "This rag is rather good,” she observed. Her long-lashed green eyes had the sleepy look of the well-fed cat. She laughed again. “Must get seme others like it for my trousseau.” Fanny looked arch. "My dear, I hope it won’t be long now.” Tressa’s smile was confident. "Don’t worry, old thing. I’ll surely pull it off this time.” She dabbled the stopper of the Chanel bottle against her pink-lobed ear. B B B “T'LL get in some good work toA night,” she said. "Why ever doesn't Eva have a properly trained French maid to turn over to us? I wouldn't dare ask one of those colleens to hook me up. They’d be sure to tangle their big fingers in the lace and rip it to bits.” “I'm simply no good at it either,” Fanny Amberton announced flatly. "Call that girl and have her hook you up.” A look of pure malice came into Tressa’s eyes. “You do have an inspiration occasionally, darling,” she drawled, pressing a button. “It will be the perfect touch. Unless the young woman turns mulish.’’ She stood there in a single brief garment of chiffon and hand run lace as Eileen answered. The maid stared frankly at the beautiful figure in the chemise. "Send Miss Barrett to me, that's a good girl,” Tressa said lightly. "At once. It’s rather important.” When Liane arrived Tressa had slipped the exquisite beige lace frock over her head and stood eyeing its artful simplicity, the manner in which it prisoned her curves and flowed away into lines of sheer innocence. "Oh, Miss Barrett, do hook me up, won’t you?” Tressa asked in a drawling voice. “Certainly.” With dignity Liane managed the intricate fastenings. She stood up. "Is that all?” Liane’s face was like a white mask. Her manner was chill, impersonal. "Thanks so much. No lady’s maid could have done better.” Their glances met, clashed. "You’re quite welcome.” Liane met the insolence with studied unconcern. But as she left the room her heart was hammering with anger. It w>as to be war then. War to the teeth! B B B LIANE stood like a trapped young thing in one corner of the library. Van Robard faced her, grim in his black and white, his splendid head arrogantly lifted. ‘‘You’ve got to hear me out,” he was saying doggedly. Liane stammered. "The others are coming. Miss Lord—Muriel—they’ll be in any minute. They mustn’t find us.” She cast a despairing glance aruond. He said, coldly resolute. “They’re playing ping-pong in the game room. Mrs. Atherton is at backgammon with my aunt. You’ve got to stay. I’ve been trying for months to explain. That’s why I came tonight.” Tlie young girl drew herself up proudly. "There’s nothing to explain.” "Oh, mly sweet ” Was there a break in his deep voice? Liane steeled herself against it, against the charm this man held for her. Across the hall the radio was wailing mournfully: "What—is —this thing—called—love? This—funny—thing called love?” The girl ground her nails into her palms. She repeated: “There’s nothing you need to explain, is there?” She even smiled.

(To Be Continued) iTKKlftl . , l A man had a square piece of hunting s with two dragons on it, as shown above. He wished to cut it into pieces that would make two square banners, with a dragon on each. What is the least number of pieces that would make this possible? Answer for Yesterday 7W£s? PLATES snow zw&ons cw ifJ PLEATS MO BOMS, o blooms of PETALS Tihired PALEST eosei COLOURED DESIGNS N PASTEL FIZST AG£ MAPS Foe ALL OUK. CZOCKEGy. STAPLE OF outz TfZAoe. The words in large letters are the one* that were missing, and are all composed of the same six letters. i*

TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

“Where is the prince?” inquired Sir Richard. “Yonder,” and they pointed toward the far end of the court where a larger company was assembled. Bidding Blake follow, Sir Richard led the way. The knights and ladies crowded about, asking questions and commenting with a frankness that’brought a flush to young Blake's {ace.

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 Hfiß BUDDIES

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The women openly praised Blake’s looks while the men made unflattering remarks upon his attire. A tall man eyed Blake searchingly. “My lord prince,” said Sir Richard, bowing, “I bring thee Sir James, a worthy knight templar, who by God's grace hath come safely through the enemy lines at the gates cf Nimmr.”

—By Ahern

“Thou sayest thou comest from the temple of Solomon in Jerusalem?” demanded the prince. “Sir Richard must have misunderstood me,” replied Blake. “Then thou art no knight templar!” “Perhaps he is one of those knights that guard the way to the Holy Land,” came a soft voice near the prince.

OUT OTTR WAY

MORE. OIL. \ MJUuT’pE. Too \ m rl wo ° PoT OM I Trvna 00, W.m : IT, Th' EASIER J lT / - T'T VJIUL RoNv/1 Rom BV / : |tai V ,tselF TTs CTR-WiLl'AMs, CAKIMIE.O MA&IC. *-/*■

' NOUj | VOEU. r .WWON If KU. T\V VittW'S, OOK>T .= t K> X EN3XH VOO §J l VO’rtEEfc

—By Edgar Rice Burroughb

Jimmy Blake glanced quickly at the speaker and as their eyes met, hers fell, but not before he had seen they were very beautiful eyes in an equally beautiful face. “More like he be a Saracen spy,” snapped a dark man who stood beside the girl. “He looketh not so wicked, my father,” she said, “I doubt if Sir Malud hath ever seen a Saracenl”

_ JULY 15,1931

—By Williams

—By Blosssr

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin