Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 68, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 July 1931 — Page 7

JULY 29, 1931

Heart of Liane dA

BEC.IV HERE TODAY , LIANE BARRETT, who is beautiful. 18. and poor falls In love with a rich men of the world. VAN ROBARD. Her mother. CASS BARRETT, bests her to have nothing to do with Robard. MURIEL LADD. debutante play* around with many men and professes to care for CHUCK DESMOND, a reporter, but eventually becomes engaged to Robard. Hurt and wishing to please her mother. Liana promises to marry CLIVE CLEJSSPAUGH. who will Inherit millions on his wedding day. Cass falls 111 and In her delirium babbles of some mystery concerning the girl's birth. TRESSA LORD, who with her sister. FANNY AMBERTON Is visiting old MRS. CLEESPAUGH. digljkes Llane and plots to come between ner and Clive. She connives with some blackmailers, but is warned off bv SHANE M'DERMID. police officer and friend of Lane. At a ball for the PRINCE OF SLAV ARIA. Llane Is kidnaped bv a gang seeking ransom. McDermld. Clive, and Desmond all pursue the kidnapers. Llane Is rescued without serious harm. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY (Continued) WHY didn’t she love him? He was young and attractive. His blue eyes could kindle with a darkening light. His young mouth had a passionate curve to it. She liked his voice. She liked his sense of humor, his kindliness. But the spark—well, it just wasn’t there. She met Mrs. Cleespaugh on the landing. “My dear, such a stupid thing! One of Christine’s girls called just now to say your fitting is today at 11 instead of tomorrow. “I’m so sorry. You might have gone in with Clive, but it’s too late lor that now. Kelly will have to take you. I’ve just rung the garage.” “I’ll change right away,” Llane answered. When she came down ten minutes later she found Tressa Lord curled up in one of the hall chairs. “What—off to town again?” Tressa asked. “Yees, I have to go. A fitting.” "Too bad. Thought we might have some bridge.” Liane was puzzled by the other’s change of front. Tressa scarcely had spoken to her for a week. Then the car drove up and she dismissed the matter, climbing in, waving her hand. Tressa went down the steps and disappeared around the rear of the oar. “Probably going to the stables,” Liane thought. Kelly was a careful driver, so it was with a sensation of real alarm that Liane observed shortly that the big car was bumping and careening raggedly over the ruts. The chauffeur glanced back at her before drawing to a stop. “It’s only a flat. Miss Barrett,” he said disgustedly, “but madame said I was to make time and this’ll hold us up a bit.” “There’s no garage anywhere in sight,” Liane said, anxiously consulting her watch. “Oh, I can change it in a jiffy,” Kelly assured her. Liane took out her vanity case and began absently to redden her lips. Absorbed in this occupation she scarcely heard the purring of the car drawn up beside her. A voice asked mockingly, “Is the lady stranded?” She looked up to see Van Robard, unbelievably handsoms, incredibly debonair, smiling at her. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE SITTING on that stone wall along the quiet Long Island road Liane stared at the man before her, scarcely crediting her own eyes. It seemed fate that she should encounter Van Robard at every turn. Inwardly fluttered, but outwardly calm, she returned his salutation. ‘‘Kelly's struggling with a flat and I’m late for a dressmaker’s appointment,” she told him. Her heart thudded in her breast. She struggled for composure. Now Van Robard said cavalierly, “I’m going to town. Can’t I give you a lift?” She wanted desperately to say no, but common sense forbade. Minutes flew and still the red-faced chauffeur tore at t.he stubborn rim. “I'm awfully afraid I'll have to accept,” she said. And could have bitten her lips for the stupid words. Robard laughed shortly. “Sorry you feel that way about it,” he told her. “I’m no ogre. I don’t eat little girls.” Liane was already on her feet, all contrition. “I'm just stupid. You mustn’t mind me,” she stammered, tongue-tied as always in this man’s presence. Kelly came toward them wiping his brow. ‘‘lt’ll be a matter of ten —maybe fifteen minutes more,

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Miss,” he said, touching his cap to Robard, whom he knew. “I’ve asked Miss Barrett to let me take her in,” Robard said genially. “I happen to be driving to town.” “I’m afraid I must,” Liane §>ld the chauffeur. “I’m late as it is. Will you follow us and pick me up at the dressmaker^?” tt tt tt VAN helped her into his car. She suddenly was conscious of her looks, of her sleekness and slimness in the smoke-colored frock and coat. Cajollngly hq, said as they wove their way in and’out of the increasing traffic, “Won’t you lunch with me? I haven’t had a chance to talk to you for ages.” The color flooded her face. “I’m afraid not. I have a sort of engagement. * I was going to telephone to mother—” He stilled her objections. “Nonsense. You’re lunching with me.” They were driving through a town now. Street cars, policemen, pedestrians, all became a blur to Llane. She was only aware that for a short time she and Van Rohard were together. ‘Til drop you at Fifty-Seventh street and come back in an hour,” he announced. Liane did not answer. The red light flashed on and Van brought the engine to a standstill. He had a moment in which to turn to her, to cover her hand with his free one. “You and I have so much to say to each other, sweet,” he told her. And well do you know it!” The spell was on her once more. She could not say no to this man. u tt a THE entrance to Christine, Ltd., is a symphony in mauve. Curtains shading from plum to lilac shut out the din of Fifty-seventh street. The carpet is deep purple, so soft and thick that one’s feet sink into its pile. 4 The ceiling is pale lavender, studded with silver stars. There is about the place a faint, elusive scent of sprnig flowers. No hint is given of the crude, noisy workroom upstairs where French women in sleazy black frocks dart frantically to and fro with lengths of fabric over their arms, where errand girls work in slovenly fashion for $8 a week. No, Christine’s main salon is all suavity and richness. Liane felt it that late November day when she arrived to have her wedding dress fitted. A year ago she would have been timid in this place. Now she felt quite at home. As the fiancee of CUve Cleespaugh of Willow Stream and Park avenue, she was accepted fawned over. A woman in a perfectly fitting black dress came toward her and murmured, “Ah, Miss Barrett. I’ll take you to Miss Lilly.” Liane followed her into a lilacdraped cubicle. With infinite care she was helped off with her smart smoke colored coat. Miss Lilly, a tall, red-haired gir' with a matchless Irish complexion, appeared. “Just one minute, Miss Barrett. Ma’mselle Denise is putting in the last stitch.” Liane scarcely heard what they said as she slipped out of her ex* pensive frock and stood there in the wisps of delicate French lingerie Mrs. Cleespaugh had insisted on buying for her. As in a dream she watched the voluble French woman enter carrying the pile of creamy velvet over >er arm. She stood on a small dais and permitted them to drape her with the gown. Her mind was a whirligig of confused thoughts. Why had she agreed to lunch with Van Robard? She felt guilty about it, about the meeting itself which certainly she had not planned. The very fact that Clive was away seemed to make their rendezvous more significant. “Miss Barrett is lovely!” muttered Mademoiselle, falling back a few steps and clasping her hands. tt St tt LIANE glanced dreamily at herself in the long mirror. Startled, she beheld her own image. She stared at herself as if, indeed, it were a stranger she beheld. The dress was exquisite. There was no doubt about that. It followed the style of a more romantic period. The fitted bodice, long, tight sleeves, the graceful flow of

the long, full skirt suited her exactly. Above the adroitly fitting bodice her throat and shoulders were cxqisite. Miss Lilly, watching her, thought there was something vaguely Florentine about the girl. She thought, “If all our brides looked like this I shouldn’t mind raving about them.” Aloud she said, “Bpt it’s too divine! Miss Barrett, you are beautiful!” Liane colored. “Thank you.” She was not used to fulsome compliments. Mademoiselle thought with Gallic shrewdness, “The young miss is sad today. Gne wonders If she gives her thoughts to the affianced, or to another. Carefully they helped Llane out of the gown. Miss Lilly buttoned her into the smoke-colored frock. “They treat me,” marveled Llane, “as if I were a princess.” She smiled at them, told them the dress was beautiful. Miss Lilly said, impetuously, “I should like to come to your wedding, Miss Barrett.” She always said that to “her brides” and seldom meant it. This time she meant what she said. Liane said, “I’ll be sure to send you an invitation.” Dreamily she smiled at the other girl. She was not really thinking of them. She was wondering what she would say to Van Robard, who waited for her in his long, low car. She was trying on the dress she would wear at her wedding, but her love was given to another man. tt a a OVER the table in a quiet, secluded little restaurant, Van said, “I told Kelly you would be delayed. He’ll pick you up at the Ritz at 4.” Troubled, Liane looked across at him. “If any one should see us here,” she murmured, “there’d be gossip. I should hate that for Clive’s sake.” “What nonsense! Even Eva would not mind. Why, I’m almost one of the family!” Liane laughed, suddenly' lighthearted and determined to enjoy the interlude. “I suppose you are. I’m foolish to worry.” He covered her hand, the one with the engagement ring, with his own brown one. “You’re a darling even if you are foolish.” His eyes caressed her. “You’re not very polite.” She tried to appear dignified. “Do you want me to be? One is polite only to the people one cares nothing about.” He bent his head to light a cigaret. Covertly she studied his averted face. Always when those dark eyes of his burned deeply into her own she became confused. Now her glance devoured each handsome feature. He lifted his eyes to meet her frank stare. Robard smiled. “Like me?” “You know I do,” she said very softly. (To Be Continued) STICKLERS /• \ ?| © \ \ © I V ©/ The abovs circle represents a plot of ground and the four black dots are cottages. Can you divide the land into four equal parts, each part with a cottage 1 onit? Answer for Yesterday ■——* - i .4.... - The above diagram shows how the cross may be dissected into four similar ' parts, which, when regrouped on a piece of white paper, will form a square with a a cross cut out in the center. , „ ii, nr

TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

The Galla chief sent word to the Sheik that he would come in three days. “Say to him, Fejjuan, that in part payment for leading him through our country, he must release all the Galla slaves he has with him. Meanwhile,” he grinned, “I shall gather many warriors from other villages, for I do not trust these desert people.” And so it was that Fejjuan returned to the Sheik’s camp and delivered Batando’s terms.

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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Ibn Jad at first flatly refused to give up the Galla slaves, but on no other terms would Bantando consent to guide him. So the Sheik finally gave in, though he mentally decided he would trick the old chieftain. Fejjuan had but one regret in betraying the Arabs. That was caused by his liking for Ateja, the Sheik’s daughter. But being a fatalist, he was consoled by the conviction that whatever was to be, would be, regardless of what be might do,

—By Ahem

And the Sheik waited and Batando gathered his black warriors from far and near. Tarzan of the Apes took up the trail of the Beduins. The apeman was convinced that the white prisoner with them was young Blake. But he felt no alarm for the American’s safety, believing that the Beduins were holding him for ransom. So he made no pretense of speed as he followed the spoor of Ibn Jad and his people.

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

On a crude table, lighted by a feebly burning cresset, two men in Nimmr’s castle sat playing at chess. Neither Sir Richard's mind nor his heart were in the game. “You don’t seem very keen about playing tonight,” said the young chap opposite him. 'My heart is heavy, James,” confessed the other. “For I am thinking of the morrow. Malud is the best swordsman in Nimmr.” “Oh, forget it, Dickey,” smiled Jimmy Blake. T should worry.”

PAGE 7

—By Williams

—By Blosser,

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin'