Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 75, Indianapolis, Marion County, 6 August 1931 — Page 13

r AUG. <5, 193 L

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.. BEGIM HEBE TODAT . tUNE BARRETT. 18 and beautiful, trie* in vain to forget VAN ROBARD healthy polo player, when his engagement Is announced to MtTRTEL LADD, popular debutante. Liane's mother, CASS BARRETT. Is an actress and It Is during Cass' engagement in stock at a Jjahlonab’e Long Island summer colony that the Barretts meet MRS. CLKESPAUOH wealthy widow. When Cass goes on tour In the fall, Llane becomes Mrs. Cleespaugh's social secretary. CLIVE CLEESPAUOH. the widow* only son, ask* Llane to marTy him. CUve can not Inherit his father's for;un# unless he marries before he Is 25. Llane accepts, agreeing the marriage is to be a matter of form only. Robard, whose moods are changeable. t*k* her to break the engagement and lne refusa* TRESSA LORD and her •liter. MRS AMBEPTON. come to rlilt the Cleespaughs and Tressa. who wants to marry Cliye. begins to make trouble for Llane. Tressa connives with a gang of black* maiiers. but a friendly police lieutenant, BIISNE M'Dermld. interferes Later Lutne is kidnaped to be held for a ransom but Is rescued by McDermid and Clive. The wedding takes place on Christmas dav and the couple goes south on a honev moon News comes that Muriel Ladd has elope dwith CHUCK DESMOND, newspaper reporter. Cilve is always kind, but knowledge that Robard Is the man Llane loves s. * , - h * two ,nto misunderstandings. Alter several weeks they return north. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN (Continued) It was odd to see the air of matronliness, of satisfaction, she wore "These things were grandmother’s,” she said, waving at the chairs, the graceful small tables. “She left them to me and they were all in etorage. Mother performed as usual when she heard I was taking them. Tried to stop me." Chuck watched her as she chattered, his expression a mixture of pride and amusement. "She’s cute, isn’t she?" he asked them both. They agreed with him. Indeed, there was a softness, a bloom about this new Muriel. Liane felt old and staid, tired and disillusioned, beside her. On the way home Clive was stiff, silent. “I can’t ask you to forgive me for behaving so badly,” he said et length. “It was unpardonable.” Llane did not answer. He saw she Was crying. “Oh, Lord, I am making a mess of it!” he cried. “I was a fool to think we could make this work.” She checked the childish tears. "You weren’t, and we can make it work.” She faced him stanchly. nan BACK in the apartment Chuck lounged in a big chair. Muriel perched on the arm of it. "Give me a cigaret, darling.” He put one between her scarlet, pouting lips. “Good party.” Chuck reached out to shut off the blues singer moaning through the radio. “What’s the matter with those two? Can you figure it out?” His tone was casual, but interest flickered in his eyes. “Dunno,” Muriel said, blowing a cloud of smoke. “Guess they had a row before they arrived. They were too darned polite to each other.” He tousled her hair. “Never be like that to me. woman, will you?” She slipped down into his lap. She raised her mouth for a kiss. ‘‘That worry you much?” “Noh-uh.” It seemed to satisfy her. “Funny,” she murmured after a moment. “I thought Van was cur-razy for her once, but he seemed to lose interest.” Chuck glowered. “Must you drag him in?” Her giggle was infectious. “Going Jealous on me?" "I might if it weren’t for my lofty nature.” He stood up, dumping her unceremoniously to the floor. “Got to see a man.” n tt SHE looked at her wrist watch. “Chuck Desmond, if you’re going out at 12 o’clock, I’m trailing along.” He pretended anger. “It’s an assignment, I tell you.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “Try and stop me!” On clicking high heels she vanished into the bedroom, reappearing with a coat on her arm. “No two-timing in this house, baby. I go by-by with you!" He laughed at her. He couldn’t help it. “You’re my chestnut burr, aren’t you?” “Ummm. Hope so.” He tucked her hand under his arm. “Never mind. We’re going to the Fifty Club to see Martone. You’ll like that.” “Golly, the bucket of blood man! We do have fun.” She trotted along, taking two steps to his one. At the corner he hailed a taxi. “Woman, you’re my most expensive luxury. First you make me

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buy anew hat and change my shirt every day. Now you force me to take taxis. You should have married a millionaire or else wear Cuban heels.” "Shush. Yo’all talks blggety, Mister Man, but you’s skeered o' me.” They chortled foolishly. The sleepy taxi-man thought, “Another pair of tight ones.” “Honestly, Chuck,” Muriel insisted a good five minutes later, putting her hat on straight, “I don’t think Liane is happy. Do you?” He yawned. “Her own fault if she’s not. I’m for the noble institution of marriage.” “You mean that?” His answer was so vigorous sh< had to do her lips all over again before they reached the Fifty Club. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT LIANE was walking down Fifth avenue on one of those February days which hold a false promise of spring. She was feeling singularly light hearted. There were a few pleasant errands to do. She was to order flowers for a dinner they were giving that night in their rooms. It was to be a farewell party for Clive's mother, who sailed on the morrow for Naples. She swung along enjoying the crowds and her own sense of well being. At the crossing where she was held by a red light she felt a light touch on her arm. She looked up into Van Robard’s darkly smilI ing eyes. Liane stammered, “I thought you j had gone away!” ‘ Next week. What luck running ! into you like this.” He fell into step beside her. “You’re looking very fit,” he said. She colored, hating • herself. “Thanks. You, too.” They talked banalities. Clive was well, yes. His mother was sailing. Hadn’t Van heard? Liane kept her voice steady with an effort. Her heart was pounding in the old, remembered way. They stopped at a corner as the east traffic flowed by. He glanced up at the big hotel towering above them and spoke as if on an impulse. “Come in and have tea with me won’t you?” Liane demurred. “I have a dozen things to do.” “Ah, you’ll have time for them later. Come.” As one under a spell, she followed him. She paused at the door of the flower shop just off the lobby. I'll do one of my errands here and now,” she informed him gayly. Yes, she would have tulips and narcissus and some yellow roses for her centerpiece. Van watched her with a little quirk of amusement around his lips. As she finished giving the order, he told the man to bring gardenias. Carefully he chose three perfect waxy blooms. Tin-foiled and knotted with olive ribbon they made a decoration for her shoulder. “These are my favorites. How did you know?” “I didn’t, but they suit you.” TOGETHER they went into the big room, almost deserted now. A string orchestra, hidden somewhere, played dance tunes. Liane stripped off her gloves. “They tell me Clive’s deep in affairs down at the office of the estate.” She smiled, her eyes kindled. “Oh, you had heard about it? Yes, he’s being terrifically interested in business. His mother is so pleased.” She poured his tea. Lemon? Ah, he likes his plain. The hot, sweet liquid seemed to clear her head, made her feel less giddy. This was the hour she had dreamed of, long ago. A table between them, his smile, the remembered glance. Only now she wore a narrow ring upon her finger, a ring that had not been there before. _ They lingered on. Outside the dusk daepened in the narrow canyon of the street. Lights sprang on. Traffic became noisier. None of this Liane heard. Van talked as she never had heard him talk before. Wittily, amusingly, impersonally. No handclasps under the folds of the damask. No dreamy glances. Yet she felt his spell with the old time potency. She struggled to free herself from it as sleepers try to free themselves from dreams. “I really must go now.” She had to dress, to change. A

new gown, one of rose tissue, lay .n its pristine folds, waiting to be worn. Clive would be waiting. “Must you really? Oh, I’m sorry.” They had so much to say to each other. But she had to tear herself away. He said, as he put her into a cab, “This has been great fun. We must do it again.” As Liane rode away she thought, “There's no harm in this. I may have my friends, mayn't I? Clive would not mind.” But she did not mention the meeting to him. When she arrayed herself in the new frock she pinned the gardenias on her shoulder. Clive’s “Had a good day?” held a quality of reserve in it. For his mother’s benefit he kissed Liane. The girl thought he looked at her rather oddly across the tabie. She was so spirited, so merry. Everything made her laugh. Cass had come to dinner, too. “But I must leave early,” she said. “I’m on for the first act, you know.” She looked rested, eager. The play was extraordinarily successful in a season of failures. Cass had new clothes and a few comforts in the fiat. She would not let Clive give her anything. She was very proud. it tt a After her mother had left, Liane sat dreamily listening to the others talk. Her mind- was busy elsewhere. Boheme tonight,” she heard her mother-in-law say briskly. “You won’t mind?” The girl roused herself. “No, I love that.” Kelly touched his hat in friendly greeting as Clive helped her into the car. Wrapped in her furs, she lay back watching the glimmer and play of the motors on the avenue. The street was like a black lane of waters along which the lights flashed red and green, red and green. A girl stood at the crossing, clutching a thin coat about her. Her envious gaze took in the trio in the car—the young man, so sternlipped and handsome in his gleaming hat, the girl, languid above her ermine, the dowager, with silver hair. Liane watched the girl on the curb as a thin young man darted out of the service entrance of a great building and slipped a hand under her arm. Clive, too, had observed the lovers’ rendezvous. It was a little drama in a side street. The boy and girl drifted on, happily, aimlessly. Probably they had nowhere to go. They might seek a mo.vie palace and hold hands. “There but for the grace of God, go I,” Liane reflected. She thought, “That girl has her man. She may shiver, but she's happy.” Clive’s mother was asking a question. The girl had not heard. She roused herself to listen. Above the sea of bobbing heads in the opera house they sat, aloof, apart. The lights died away and the music began tentatively, softly, The rustling of programs, like a summer breeze, dwindled to a hush. The curtain rose. Liane had been bored by opera. Tonight there seemed something infinitely touching about the story of the little dressmaker and her love. The music tore at her heart, reminded her of what she had lost irrevocably. Once she stole a glance at her husband. He sat with arms folded, his head drooping. She looked away quickly. There was a defenseless quality about his pose that touched her deeply. She forgot that the singer playing Mimi was sadly overweight and no longer young, that the Rudolph long ago had lost his claim to manly beauty. She forgot that the piece was make believe. The notes seemed to drip with honeyed sweetness. They were a part of the haunting fragrance of the gardenias on her shoulder. . Softly she touched her eyelids with the fragile handkerchief she carried. The poignancy of Mimi’s love seemed unendurable. (To Be Continued)

STKKLEftS

HE STOP Ai CAP. *** The letters in the above four words can be switched about and added to- ‘ gether to form one word that means something nobody likes to have happen. > Can you discover the word? , - ®

j Answer for Yesterday

STAPT A _L_N_ Os k_ 2jo wTeTdTm Starting with the letter “N” in the upper right comer and following the course indicated, the letters spell “NO SMOKING ALLOWED.” r

TARZAN,: 'RD OF THE JUNGLE

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Behind the curtain of the harem Ateja lay sleepless. She listened to the whispered conversation of her father and her uncle. “He must be put out of the way,” insisted the Sheik. “I shall not again attempt to do it, brother,” said Tollog. “Once was enough for me!” “No, thou need not,” replied the Sheik thoughtfully. “I have-a better plan this time. Listen well’’ *

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 ANb HER BUDDIES

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Ibn Jad rubbed his palms together and smiled as be unfolded his scheme. It consisted of having Stimbol, their American prisoner, kill Tarzan “I think perhaps we may get rid of both th unbelieving dogs without a stain upon us when the ape-man’s Waziri arrive,” said the Sheik. So clever was the plan that when he had told its details Tollog exclaimed, enraptured: “Allah be praised for such a brother!"

—By Ahern

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Neither the Sheik nor Tollog would have been so pleased with themselves had they known that Ateja was listening. Or had they seen the silent figure crouching in the dark. Stimbol w’as now summoned by the Sheik, and Tollog departed to await events. Ateja trembled upon her sleeping mat, while the silent figure crouching outside the Shfik’p tent disappeared in the darkness.

PUT OUR WAY

■Yv/AS \ / CM.GOCO ’ O'O \ v r \ \/ WVN OOmT VA " j , , JL 1 PtEASE. \NA*.W DEAL. VsoTA A *CT UP TO THE I -iTCW TmMA r - — _ e-rone. a*4D (i OEuviecis,? im L. \ GET A C A*4 \ \ Su&v. KtOWy — j Born "TrirT'T wears too soon UaSLiLS-r.' L *-•= CtßinwKwctKj

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Stimbol, cautioned to come stealthily to Ibn Jad’s presence, was angered at having his sleep disturbed. ‘Sit, Nasrany,” invited the Sheik. “I have sent for thee this late to tell thee that Tarzan of the Apes demands thy life. He claims that thou hast slain thy companion, Blake. For that, he himself is going to kill thee tomorrow." “But—surely you won’t let him murder me, ibn Jad,” Stimbol pleaded.

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosssr

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin