Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 72, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 August 1931 — Page 9

AUG. 3, 1931.

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BEGIN HERE TODAY A LIANE BARRETT. 18. and beautiful, trie* in vain to forget VAN ROBARD. wealthy polo player, when his engagement Is announced to MURIEL LAUD. Popular debutante. Llane'* mother. CASB BARRETT. Is an actress and It Is during Cass' engagement In stock at a fashionable Long Island summer colony that the Barrett* meet MRS CLEES¥AUOH. wealthy widow. When Cass goes on tour In the fall. Liane becomes Mrs. Cleespauirh's social ■ecretary. CLIVE CLEESPAUGH. the widow's only son. asks Llane to marry Dim. Clive can not Inherit hi* father's fortune unless he marries before he Is 25. . Llane accepts, agreeing the marriage to be a matter of form only. Robard. whose moods are changeable. asks her to break the engagement. but Llane refuses TRESS A LORD and her *lstr. MRS AMBERTON, come to visit th Cleespaughs and Tressa. who wants to marrv CUve. begins to make trouble for Llane She eonnlves with a gang of blackmailers but a friendly police lieutenant, BHANE' M’DERMID interferes. At a fashionable hunt ball. Llane Is kidnaped, to be held for ransom. She Is rescued bv McDermid end Clive. The wedding Is to take place Christmas day. Just before Llane goes to the church Tressa brings her a note from Robard begging her to elope with him. Llane refutes and the wedding takes place. The couple depart for a honeymoon in the south. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY-POUR (Continued) "Do you think it's necessary to •ay that?” "I don't know. I’m tellint? you. that's all. He’s stirred lots of hearts, but his own is always calm enough. Maybe you thihk I’m not 6porting to tell you all this. “I like Van. He’s a swell guy, If you like him. I always have. I know his ways. But I’m not going to have him make a mess of things in my home.” How stern he looked with his Jaw firmly set! Liane could not down a certain pride in hearing this young man’s name. Faintly she said, "I’ll play fair. Don’t worry.” a a a

HE smiled. Held out his hand across the breakfast things. "That’s right, partner. Now let’s talk about pleasant things. Have you forgotten it’s Christmas morning?” “I had. Fc“* the first time in all toy life.” He put a box Into her hands. The lid lifted, disclosed a circlet of diamonds. “It’s too beautiful and you’re too feood to me!” "Nonsense.” The maid whose knock had not been heard entered on this pretty tableau. "Golly!” she thought, disappointed. "If I’d come a minute later, he’d been kissing her.” She hung the biscuit colored frock in the closet and tiptoed out. “Just like the movies,” she told her young man when she met him later that day. "Him a bit like Robert Montgomery, and the Mrs. sort of like Joan Crawford, only prettier. "Some have all the luck,” the maid muttered. She stood at the door of the linen room as the couple went by, the girl pale and slim in her coat of supple dark fur, a spicy sent drifting after her. Outside in the crisp air the boy fend girl swung along. "Our train leaves at 3. We have time to do a few things. Would you like to send some flowers to your mother?” She glowed. "How sweet of you to think of it. She’s having Vernon and some other people for dinner at the apartment. She’ll love It.” He ordered long-stemmed roses, freesla, violets. In another shop off the lobby, he added a huge box of candy to the array. They walked. A society photographer, strolling dolefully about, caught a glimpse of the pair and snapped them grinning. This was his lucky day! Clive looked at his watch. "Lord, we’ve got to hurry. Must pack, too.” He commandeered a taxi. The Jolting flung her against him. She flushed, "Sorry.” How silly, she thought, an inetant later. The smile he gave her had a wry quality about it. He put an arm around her to steady her. A casual touch it was. Friendly, nothing more. She relaxed. She must not be so stiff, so on guard. She must not act like a giddy schoolgirl. He started out the window. He seemed not to sense her perturbation. Only his hand remained, warm, reassuring, on her shoulder. Back in the hotel rooms there was no time for chance embarrassments. She flung her things into her bags. She dared not cram in that last bottle of scent. It might spill, stain

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her things. She called the maid of the morning. “Would you like to have this?” She held it out, the silver and black botttle sending out breaths ol heady fragrance. "Oh. thank you, madame. That’s lovely.” "For Christmas. I hope you’ll have a happy one.” Something in the girl’s drab face touched her. Something wistful, yearning. "And you, madame. I hope you’ll have a happy married life, if you’ll pardon me saying so.” "Thank you.” Clive heard. He stood in the doorway, faintly smiling. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE IN the drawing room compartment Clive put a pile of magazines and newspapers in Llano’s lap. "D’ycu mind if I leave you for a moment? I’m going out on the observation platfrom to smoke.” She sat turning the pages Idly. A headline in one of the papers caught her eye. "Heiress Weds Newspaperman as Mother Weeps.” Liane read: "Miss Muriel Ladd, debutante daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Fenton Ladd of Newport and Willow Stream, Long Island, was married by special license to Mr. Charles Desmond, feature writer for the Evening Sphere, at Greenwich yesterday. Friends of the couple said the romance was one of long standing. Mrs. Ladd was said to be in a state of collapse and could not see reporters. "I have cried my eyes out ever since I heard the news,” she is re-

ported to have said to friends directly following receipt of news of the ceremony. Miss Ladd’s engagement to Mr. Van Robard, it is said, was broken a week ago.” A picture of Muriel in riding clothes with a crop over her knee headed this column. When Clive returned, Liane was still staring at the picture. She really had not believed that Van had said in the note Tressa had handed to her yesterday. Was it only yesterday she had stood in the chancel of St. Simon’s and repeated the words which bound her irrevocably to Clive? It seemed months, years ago. No, she had not really believed Muriel had eloped with Chuck Desmond. But it was true. Muriel at last had taken what she most wanted. ana CLIVE looked over her shoulder. “She’s taken the step at last,” he remarked. Liane tried desperately to be matter of fact. "I never thought she would,” she told him. “Although last summer she gave every evidence of being mad about him.” "This may be the making of that girl if she sticks to him,” Clive said. "That fellow has brains. He’ll make her step round. Just what she needs.” Coolly he ignored the glaring fact that Van now was free. "Not that it matters to me,” Liane reflected. "He’s no more to me now than if he’d never existed.” She shut her eyes. "Tired?” Clive’s tone was solicitous. "No, I’m loving all this. It’s the first time I’ve ever traveled so elegantly.” "Poor kid, you’ve had a hard time. No more of that.” They rode for a while In silence. Clive Interrupted abruptly, "You’ll want to buy loads of thin things in Palm Beach. The shops will be fun for you. That’s why I didn’t bother to arrange about it beforehand.” He put a check book into her hands. "This is yours.” The deposit he named -took her breath away. "Nonsense.” His voice sounded annoyed. "I’m coming into my inheritance, thanks to you. Mother can’t run me anymore. I’d like to go out to Surabaya in the spring to look over that rubber plantation I’d spoken of. “You’ll want to be in funds then. When ,we come back we’ll have to hunt around and find a house. Mother wants us to stay with her for a while, but I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. I want us to have our own hut directly. “I’m better friends with mother,” he grinned wryly, "if we don’t live

under the same roof. You may have noticed that.” ana LIANE smiled in sympathy. "She’s sweet, but she is rather overpowering. I’m a pig to say such a thing after all she’s done for me.” "No, you’re not. Do you know she never had a companion who stayed more than two weeks before you came? She’s a steam roller, Mother Is. Grand if you like ’em, but lots of people don’t.” They laughed together. Suddenly Llane voiced a thought that had occurred to her in the last few minutes. "Would you like it if I came along? To Surabaya or whatever that place is?” He flushed, looking pleased. "Os course. But I thought you’d hate the idea.” "Why?” "Oh, I don’t know. We didn’t agre to the whither-thou-goest-I-will-go idea, you remember.” She laced her fingers nervously. “Just the same, I think I ought to go with you.” Underneath she thought, troubled, that she-would be a good wife to this man if only in form. She would follow him faithfully. "We’ll talk about that later.” Clive picked up a book and she sat staring at the landscape. They were traveling through farm country now with little lights pricking through the darkness, fences blurred in the quickly falling snow. Liane looked troubled, young and defenseless. Her hands lay idle in her lap. Surely, she thought, It was a strange bridal trip. They talked of money, of business affairs, but never of each other.

Her mind trembled away from reflection of what this day might have been like if she had given her pledge to Van yesterday instead of to this boy. She shut her eyes to banish the recollection of his stormy glance, his eyes devouring hers. No, she would not think of him now! All that was behind her. She glanced up to find Clive’s blue eyes upon her. He withdrew his gaze instantly, but she had the sensation of having looked into a room where the curtains had not yet been drawn. His eyes had been saying something to her .. . something .. . what was it? There was a message there, but she could not translate it. a a a TROUBLED, she sought escape in words. She babbled to him of other journeys she had made, trips with her mother’s company in one night stands. She made him laugh with anecdotes of that crazy-quilt life of hers. They were in a gale of merriment when the porter, knocking on the door, announced dinner. “D’you mind?” Clive asked when the man had taken the order and departed. "I’ll have to bunk on the couch here tonight. There wasn’t a lower berth to be had on the train, although I tried. It’ll be awkward.” ‘Why should I mind?” she loked at him, composed as a child. “Indeed, I should be nervous if you didn’t stay. I’ve never traveled alone.” He made an eloquent little gesture. "Look here, Clive,” she cried rather sharply. "We can’t make a melodrama of all this or we’ll hate each other. We’ve got to be sensible about it.” (To Be Continued)

STICKLERS Igloll d| -LJL-LA -LA II la|e| r 1 s j Start at any square and draw a line to an adjacent square—either vertically, horizontally or diagonally Continue from square to square and if you complete the course correctly, you will trace out the words of an old and familiar proverb.

Answer for Saturday

The above shows how the pieces may t be arranged to form a heart f

TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

Thou canst not prevail over Sir Malud on the morrow, good friend,” said Sir Richard. “Would that I might take thy place in the lists against him. but that may not be. I console myself with the thought that thou wilt comport thyself courageously and abe as a good Sir Knight should—with no stain pon thy escutcheon. Greatly will it solace the Princess Guinalda to know that Uiou didst, die ferayelxT

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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“You think so?” ventured Jimmy. “Verily,” Sir Richard replied. “And if I die, will she be put out?” “Put out what?” demanded Richard. “Will she be sore vexed?” corrected Blake. “No lady would rejoice to see her promised husband overthrown and killed,” commented Blake, “and If thou are not slain, it will be because thou hart Iftln 'frjfcliid. gpflj 1&, jmpnssjhl*.**

—By Ahern

“Is the Princess Guinalda really his promised bride?” demanded Blake. “ 'TIs so understood by all,” replied Richard. “Well, I’m for turning in,” snapped Blake. “If I’ve got to be killed tomorrow I ought to get a ,little sleep tonight.” So, stretched upon hid bed onrushes, he slept well, little troubled by the knowledge that tomorrow he was to meet a knight in mortal combak

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Being self-reliant and young, Blake didn’t think he would be killed. What upset him most was the predicted marriage of Sir Malud and the Princess of Nimmr. “Can it be,” he asked himself, “that I have been fool enough to have fallen in love with a beautiful little medieval princess whcHprobably looks on me as dust beneath her slippered feet?” Sir James couldn’t answer his awn queatioru

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—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin