Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 74, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 August 1931 — Page 9

AUG. 5, 1931.

Heart °f Liane

BEGIN HEBE TODAY LIANE BARRETT. 18. nd beautiful, trie* in vain to forget VAN ROBARD wealthy polo player, when hi* engagement 1* announced to MURIEL LADD Popular debuntante. Llane’s mother. CASS BARRETT. 1* an actress and It Is during Cass’ ens age merit in stock at a fashionable Long Bland summer colons' that the Barefetu meet MRS CLEESPAUGH. wealthy widow. When Cass goes on tour In the fall. become* Mr* Clf'-spaugh's social secrefkrv. CLIVE CLEESPAUGH. the widow * only bod. ask* Liane to marry him Clive can not Inherit hi* father’s fortune unless he msrrles before he Is 25 wane accept*, agreeing the marriage is to be a matter of form only. Robard. whose moods are changeable, asks her to break the engagement and Liane refuse*. TRESfiA LORD and her sister. MRS AMBERTON. come to visit the Cleespaughs and Tres*a. who warts to marry CUve. begins to make trouble for Liane She connive* with a gang of blackmailers. but a friendly police lieutenant. SHANE McDERMID. interferes. At the fashionable hunt ball Liane Is kidnaped to be held for ransom, but Is rescued bv McDermld and Clive. The wedding takes place on Christie* day and the couple departs for a honeymoon in the south. News comes that Muriel Ladd has eloped with CHUCK DEEMOND. newspaper reporter. CUve is always kind, but the knowledge that Robard Is the man Liane loves drives the two into misunderstandings. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX (Continued) Her look both surprised and hurt. ‘I won’t if you’d rather not.” “Please don’t.” She never had seen him in this mood before, but when they stopped for tea she won him out of it. The day was perfect, not too hot, not too windy. The clouds drifted across a sapphire sky. They were served little cakes flavored with cinnamon. A great white cat ambled into the patio and they poured some cream in a saucer for it. “Let’s drive back to New York,” Clive cried. “Chap’s been wanting to sell me a car, but I’d stalled him of!.” Liane was appalled at this idea. “But you’ve three at hornet” “What difference does that make?” She laughed. ‘1 forgot. I can’t get used to all this.” It was Settled then. It would be more fun than going back by train. They had been away four weeks. It seemed longer. Liane was anxious to see her mother again. 000 DAY by day as they traveled the weather grew colder. The southern interlude had been pleasant, but Liane knew she was retuning to a more critical world. She dreaded taking up the new responsibilities. After all, she was only 19 and inexperienced. Some of this dread she imparted to Clive. He laughed at her fears. "We’ll get a decorator if you like to do the apartment.” But she demurred. “I think I’d like to try my hand at it if you’ll help me.” He was delighted. “Don't let mother steer you too much. She’ll have us all decked out in Victorian what-nots. She loves ’em.” Liane said, “It. isn’t that I mind choosing the things for our place. It’s meeting people. Taking my place as a hostess.” “Don’t worry. You’re wonderful. They’ll never know if you have a touch of stage fright.” He thought to himself that she was more composed than many a girl of his own world. He said so and she was pleased. “Do you think so, really?” “Os course.” She leaned over, impulsively squeezed his free hand. The color flooded his face, darkened it under the sunburn. “Don’t do that unless you really mean it," he said. She withdrew hastily. “I'm sorry.” She bit her lip- to keep back the tears. She had forgotten. It wasn’t fair of him to say that. 000 THAT night they reached Washington just after nightfall. Liane was enchanted with the city. From the hill above, it looked like a dusting of stars on black velvet. Travel-stained and weary, they drew up at a hotel of national fame. Clive’s casual inquiry at the desk aroused a bored clerk. “Mr. Cleespaugh? Certainly. We received your wire.” It was thus everywhere they went. Menials springing to attention. Liane was amused and excited by it usually. But tonight she was too tired. Her head ached. Without stopping to remove her little brown hat, she slipped down

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upon the bed, her fur coat dropping from her shoulders. “Worn out?" "Just about." She raised a wan face to Clive’s. He was contrite. “My fault. I shouldn’t have tried to break the record." He rang for service. A bus boy came. “Sorry, sir. We're short-handed. All the maids have gone.” Clive shut the door on the voluble boy and his ice water. “I’ll put you to bed myself,” he told Liane. She tried to spring up, appalled. “You’re ill. Don’t be a little fool.” At the words she fell back. Tenderly he took the fur coat from her, lifted her hat. He unstrapped I her bag, took from it the fragile, ! scented night things. “Lie still, silly.” His tone was stern. Liane might have been a recalcitrant child. She was faint with fatigue. Every bone in her body ached. She struggled to rise. “Really, you needn’t bother. I can manage perfectly well myself.” Her head throbbed painfully. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. Clive said, “Don’t be a goose. Lie down.” He was unlacing her little brown shoes now. Drowsily she felt herself being lifted, felt the softness of her silken gown around her. Dimly she realized he was holding a glass of wataer to her lips. “Here, take this.” He gave her an aspirin tablet. She took it meekly. She slept. Sitting in the big chair, he kept watch over her for an hour. When he was at last satisfied she was quiet he dragged himself, dog tired, to his own room. But curiously enough he did not sleep. He sat, smoking, brooding, deep into the night. Once he struck the palm of his big hand angrily against the armchair. His look was that of a man faced with a problem which has no solution. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN THEY took a small apartment at the Bleeckman, since their plans for the future still were indefinite. Liane found herself in the position of many another youthful bride. She had time on her hands and virtually nothing to do. At first it was pure luxury to have her tray brought in mornings, her bath drawn for her, and the whole, long day before her free of engagements. Clive went to his office early and j returned rather late. The man who had been in charge of the estate for years lately had suffered a nervous breakdown. Clive found things at sixes and sevens. He was a man of business at last, much to his mother’s satisfaction. But there were no more leisurely drives, no friendly tea parties and shopping expeditions. Clive seemed to Liane older, graver, increasingly silent. She would dawdle through her mornings. Perhaps she would order the car around and go shopping. Some days she lunched with her mother. Week-ends she and Clive usually spent at Willow Stream. Here a suite was turned over for their use. But mostly Liane was conscious of the extreme idleness of her existence. She began to feel a certain futility abotu her days. If they had taken a house and she had been absorbed in the fascinating business of furnishing it, she might not have tasted the boredom of the rich woman. One day Muriel’s high, temperative voice reached her over the telephone. “Do come and dine with us some night. We’re hutching in one of those rabbit warrens on the east side. Chuck wants to see you both. How about Thursday?” Liane said they would be delighted. She was excited at the prospect of seeing Muriel again. She forgot her resentment of a few months before. Muriel seemed more likable since she had married her penniless writing man: She told Clive about the invitation. He said abstractedly, “I thought you didn’t like her.” Liane smiled. “I didn’t now and then. She rather snubbed me. But she’s fun really. We needn't go if you mind.”

“I don’t mind. If you’d enjoy | seeing them, of course we’ll go.” 000 SHE took great pains with her appearance the evening of the ! dinner party. When Clive came into the living room of their suite, she stood in the doorway, smiling at him. “All ready?” Liane was in white and silver, the silk cunningly cut and contrived to make her slim figure alluring. She wore her pearls. The diamond bracelet glittered at her wrist. “We’re dining at what time?" “Seven-thirty. Muriel said to be punctual. Her cook is tempera--1 mental.” They descended in the elevator. They were still at the Bleeckman, : having decided not to take an apartment until after their trip to the far east. “You look charming." Clive’s ! tone was formal. “I like that frock.” “Thank you. I hoped you would.” She turned her eyes to his with innocent coquetry. Hastily he reached for a cigaret. “What’s the perfume you’re wearing?” “Mimosa. D’you like it.” “Very much. It’s sophisticated for you.” She smiled. “Don’t you think I’m sophisticated?” ‘I hadn’t noticed it.” “Well, I’ll learn. Give me time.” She leaned nearer to glance at the sign on the street light. “Oh, I do believe he’s taken the wrong street.” Her hair just brushed Clive’s cheek. With one abrupt movement, he swept her into his arms. His grasp was hard, compelling. Liane felt his lips on hers, demanding. She struggled in his clasp. “You try me too hard, d’you hear?” Those were the words she heard. As suddenly as he had seized her, he let her go. “I’m sorry. Forgive me: I forgot myself.” She was breathing hard. She put her hand to her lips. “Oh, oh, you hurt me.” She was whimpering like a child who has been frightened. “I didn’t mean to. You’re so sweet—so utterly desirable. I went off my head. I tell you I’m sorry.” A great tear trembled on the edge of her lashes. He took a big, soft kerchief and wiped it away. “Forget it, won’t you? I’ll not offend’ again.” 000 HIS tone was gentle, pleading. She could not bear to have him so. She managed to smile. By the time they reached the apartment building in which the young Desmonds lived she was quite composed again. Muriel met them in a flurry of silver tissue and a scent of wood smoke. They were ushered into a small room, crowded with rare furniture and good prints. A long table in one corner was brave with lace and what their hostess airily told them were 5-cent dishes. Her candle sticks were Georgian silver, her finger bowls were from Wool worth’s. Chuck appeared presently, smiling and at ease in shabby dinner clothes. They all sat down and a clumsy mulatto in a dubious apron stumbled in and out with delectable food. Mushroom soup which could not have been better at Delmonico’s in the old days. Little birds cooked to the color of strained honey. Peas green as lettuce and salad in a Ming bowl. Ices and coffee strong enough to stand alone. “You do yourself well, Mrs. Desmond,” said Clive in mock amazement. Muriel was casual. “I’ve learned to cook. Hepsy is teaching me, and what she doesn’t know I do. Together we manage very well.”

(To Be Continued.)

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TARZAN, LORD OF THE JUNGLE

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Tarzan now turned toward the Sheik. “You are not here to trade, but to find and sack a Nnty— to take its treasure and steal its women.” “Whoever says so, lies!” shouted the Sheik. “His name is Zeyd,” replied Tarzan. Ateja’s heart beat joyously. “All this he said, and more,” continued the ape-man, “for he told how one of your men sought to slay thee and then put the blame upon him.”

Tlffi WbffiNAPOLIS TIMES 1

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’s brow contracted in a dark scowl as 1.3 heard this and Fahd could scarcely hide his dismay. "I have come again," said Tarzan. "though I know you tried to kill me before. This time my Waziri are coming, and w e shall see that you return to your desert.’ Ibn Jad pretended anew that he was lost and would welcome this escort, but all the time his crafty brain was busy with a scheme to fool the ape-man.

—By Ahern

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“We are beset all around by Galla warriors,” whined the Sheik, “each moment we fear their attack.” “Tomorrow you will start homeward,” said Tarzan grimly, ignoring the Sheik’s excuses. “Meanwhile, set aside a beyt for me—and let there be no more treachery.” “Thou needst fear nothing,” the Sheik assured him as he turned toward the women's quarters, crying. “Hirfa! Ateja! Make ready the beyt of Zeyd for the Sheykh of the Jungle."

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Near Ibn Jad’s own beyt the two women raised the black tent for Tarzan. Hirfa returned to her household duties, leaving her daughter to stretch the side curtains. Ateja ran to Tarzan imploring him for news of Zeyd. The ape-man told the girl that her lover was safe, promising she would see him soon. Ateja seised the apeman’s hand and kissed it.

PAGE 9

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

- By Martin 1