Indianapolis Times, Volume 43, Number 226, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 January 1932 — Page 21

■TAN. 29, 1932.

THREE KINDS of LOVE • BY KAY CLEAVER , STRAHAN

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE "VT'ES, darling. Where are you?” I Arm asked frantically. ‘‘l'm down here at the Union station. I haven't any money for carfare nor anything. The lady here la letting me use the telephone on her desk.” “Are you—alone, dear?" *’ 'Course I'm alone. But I can't walk home, and I haven't any money for carfare; The lady— ’’ “Mary-Frances, are you—are you all right?” “No, I’m not. I'm hungry. I’m just naturally starved. And I haven't anv money, and—” “Listen, honey. You go right outside the station there, and you'll see some taxicabs. Get into one of them and tell the driver your address—" “Ann, I haven’t a cent of money—” “That doesn’t matter. Do just as sister tells you. Get into the cab and tell the man your address. I’ll be waiting on the porch, and I’ll pay him when he gets here with you.” “I hardly think he'll do it.” “Os course he will. That's the way to do. People never pay taxicabs until the end of the ride. You do that, right away,, now. Will you?” “Yes, if it is all right.” ‘Tt is, dear. That, is the way people always do. And —darling ” “What?” “Are you—are you ” “Well, you might tell the man to drive rather fast. Not too fast, dear. Just rather fast.” Ann hung up the receiver and leaned against the wall and rinsed her eyes. Phil said, “But I eould have gone for her, Ann. wherever she is. I w'as trying to tell you. My car is right here.” Ann opened her eyes. Tears w'ere dripping out of them, down her cheeks and off her chin and splashing to the front of her blouse. “Oh,” she said. “Why, of course. I forgot you were here. I forgot all about it,. I have to get my purse and wa.it on the porch for the taxicab. a tt tt "ODT. Ann,” Phil questioned, “do you mean that I may not even sit here on the porch with you until the taxicab comes?” “No, dear, I guess not. I don’t, care where you sit. T have to be alone with Mary-Franccs when she gets here—that’s all. “I wish there wpre some wav I could get word to Cissy. Poor Cissy. Oh. my word! 1 forgot to telephone to Mrs. Hill. When Ann returned to the porch Phil said, "Dearest, if you could listen just a moment ” "They arc so good,” Ann said. “T don’t know how we can ever thank them—the Hills, I mean—for w T hat, they’ve done. If it had been Ermintrude, Mrs. Hill couldn’t have been a bit happier. “She was so sweet—crying and all. And she is sure that everything is all right, or Mary-Frances wouldn’t have come home. Surely the child couldn't have talked in that mat-ter-of-fact way about being hungry, and so on. if she’d had a very unpleasant experience. Dear, do you think she could have?” “Surely not. Surely not. I’ve told you over and over. Ann—you still call me ‘dear.’ You let me put your arms around you. You can't have stopped loving me entirely, Ann. You must love me a little.” r 'Yes, I suppose so. 1 must. I always have. But I don’t wish to be bothered about love right now.” “Would it bother you, beautiful, if I told you how I felt when I eame in this evening, tired and miserable and lonely, and the clerk at the desk handed me that slip of paper with your telephone number on it?” “That's all right, dear. Poor Mr. Hill and that sweet old Uncle Chaney—out hunting for her, I wish t could get word to them. Mr. Hill couldn't have done more if it had been Ermintrude. “Mary-Frances was just cross and funny—not nervous nor anything. I can’t think what on earth is keeping that taxi. There seemed to be nothing the matter with MaryFrances except that she was hungry—and didn’t have carfare.

HORIZONTAL YESTERDAY S ANSWER 12 Growing ftlrmg IU. S. senator Iplp^ 1 ' | ImIaItIeISI the l,anks c * who defeated iM I EMALIBnIw Ruth McCor* 'pu *A tvi r fife I" Kussian mirk. JgIR MMIAGEBsRte mountains, 5 George H. A t i" ■Ht F ifllW 16 Thought. ia a sena- rr'; y oimplcnßfflplTlpiF' 17 Where is for from New J g lookout Hampshire? Mountain? |0 Narrative 8 / c oB Pnlffli 19 Sea birds, poem Q£E,K| 22 Refuse matter 11 Band of LRDJHQ O R HA[M EJN| from grapes., warrior*. 1 RL I [NiE. 23 For fear that. 12 Wnnkled. IbjHBBPSE IS|E|Nrn 24 Little devil. 14 Blackbird. tViOißißiTiOiw'Nl 26 Remarked. 15 Unyielding 2? Moist, courage. 36 Lubricated. 49 Walls of a 28 United. 18 Decree of the 37 Part of & room. 29 Gale, sultan. chain. 50 TurL 31 To ascend. 19 Bus. Hodgepodge. VERTICAL 32 Selects 20 Poem. 39 Custom. ' ‘ ballot. 21 Crown of head. 40 Covenant. 1 Envoy. 33 Inferior ta 22 Cooked oat* 41 Tree. 2 After song. degree meal. 42 Believers of a 3 Sage. 34 Sum of seven, 23 To compare particular 4 Frozen water. 35 An island. 25 Beer. creed. 5 July. 37The Divine 26 Final ranee. 44 Since. 6Of what state Word. 27 To debase. 45 Hindu widow is Newton 38 Mother. 28 Paddles. cremated on Baker a 40 Bundle. 29 Insect. the funeral native? 41 Genus includ* 30 Peaceful. pile of her l Therefore. ing the 33 Place where husband. 8 Unit of banana, money la 46 Man dress- energy. 43 Fish, coined. maker. 9 Blow. 45 TooL 34 Pronoun 48 Toward sea. 11 Reason. 47 Unit.

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“How odd that she didn't have a cent of money. It is a good thing, after all, that we didn’t go straight I to the police. Another thing we i have to thank the Hills for. Phil, is that it? Yes—there it comes. “I have to get myself in hand. I can't have hysterics nor anything. Phil—hold me tight. I feel so funny and shaky and all. Phil, let me go. You help me, dear. Phil, you help me—” “That's all I want, all the rest ;of my life, Ann. Just to help you —and love you.” tt tt tt MA R Y-FRANCES said. “Oh, hello, Phil. Ann. I mast say! | Pity's sakes! Course it's me. | You’re choking me. Ann. you got !to pay the man, I told him. You got to pay the man.” Across the safe sweetness of Mary-Frances’ shoulder, Phil’s voice, “I’ve attended to it, Ann. Don't bother.” “Did Cissy come home all right? How's Grand? I thought if Cissy could come home after 1 pushing Grand over, I could, after making just a big mistake. I “Yes, I’ll tell you all about that !in a minute. But you said. Ann. j that nothing I'd do would make any difference. I—Ann, do you think i Cissy will be awfully mad? I left i her bag at Mendel Springs. It was j in the hotel lobby. “I guess I broke a promise. I don’t know. But. anyway. Ann. I ! couldn't starve, could I? I'd of died. I The dining room was closed for repairs. And something was just j opening and shutting like a trapj door inside of me. “I ’spect if we'd write a letter we'd get the bag sent back home all right. I hardly think Earl would take it.” “This—Earl, dear? He wasn't—mde to you nor anything of that sort, was he?” “No, he wasn't rude. Just inconsiderate. All he thinks about is his old stomach. He wasn’t hunj gry. Inconsiderate. I don't think ; real true love would let another person starve.”. | She ate like a little wild animal, tearing the cold chops from the bones, gulping great swallows of milk, her eyes glaring at the i food on the table before her. i Color began to ebb into her cheeks and into Ann's at about the same time. * I DON’T know just why I wept, Ann. You keep interrupting all |t he time. I don't know why—l just i kind of did. But, anyway, like I I was telling you, he said, ‘l’ll drive I the car around to the gara.ge # and I you wait here.’ “And I said, ‘You can’t,’ and I kept telling him he couldn’t, ’cause the dining room was closed. He said missing one meal never hurt anybody. “And, Ann. he never even offered to buy me salted nuts nor chocolate bars nor anything, and I couldn’t ask him, hardly. It seemed funny for me to. when we weren’t so very well acquainted. “He’d had his lunch, of course. I hadn’t a bite all day. Not a bite. 1 So then, when spite of all I said he ! went right stubbornly along to take jt he car to the garage, instead of driving only ten miles on to the next town to eat. it came over me, Ann. surging and all. ‘He’s killed my love,’ I thought. ‘Hes’ killed my | love.’ “There was a train stopped out in | front, and Earl had gone to the j garage, so I went and asked the i man standing by the steps—a conj duetor. I thought he was. but he | turned out to be a brakeman—if this train would take me home. “Maybe it was just idle curiosity or something at first. And he said where was home? I told him. And ; then I just went on and told him the truth, Ann. I don’t know—l just felt like, telling him the truth. “He was fat and nice and he was coming home and everything. ,1 told i him I'd eloped, but changed my mind. He seemed very much surprised. and he said. ‘Judas Priest! Are you married?’ "I said. ‘No, I changed my mind. T want to go home.’ So he said, •Hop on.’ ‘‘So then, later, in the train he came along and gave me his name and address—it’s in my pocket—and

he said that my folks could pay him, if they wanted to, ’cause he'd paid my fare personally out of his own pocket. So you will, won’t you, Ann? “He was very obliging, and it seems he has a couple of daughters around about my age. He told me to take a taxicab home, too. But I was afraid he didn’t know', maybe, being a brakeman on - train. “So then the lady in the uniform at the station said to me, ‘Have you friends in the city?* So I told her I lived here, but I didn’t have any money for carfare, but I could telephone home ” SMB “T'vARLING! How did you hapD pen to start off without any money at all? You always have a quarter or so, don’t you?” “Ia few little things this morning—a lipstick and an eyebrow pencil. It came to more than a thought. “I had to ask the man to take five 1-cent stamps. And I never dreamed, Ann. that Earl wouldn’t buy me salted nuts nor chocolate bars nor anything. Just goes to show! ” “Indeed it does, dear. But—show what, exactly?” “Well, everything. I sacrificed for him and everything. Mrs. Hill asked me to stay for a wonderful dinner this evening. I just kept thinking about it—bitterly thinking, you know. Bitterly! “Did you stay? No, I didn’t. Well, he just killed my love. That’s what he did. I hope I never see him again. I’m just disgusted all over. I wouldn’t even speak to him again. “I hated to. but finally I just told him, Ann. ‘But, Earl,’ I said. ‘l'm hungry.’ What did he say? Something about a swell breakfast in the morning. I hate that word ‘swell,’ anyway. “And he was always sticking ‘see?’ on to about every word he said. I’m just going to tell Ermintrude that a girl doesn’t have to be a heartless fli.t nor anything to have her love killed—turned to hate. “I'm sick of love, anyway. It just tires you all out; and what for? I'm going in for a college career. I don’t think I’ll ever get married.” The telephone bell rang again, and Ann answered it. She had some difficulty in making Kenneth understand that she had no message for him now. “I’ll bet,” Mary-Frances said, as Ann turned from the telephone to her, “that if you went out with him he wouldn’t let you starve. I’ll bet.” elaborated Mary-Frances. “that he wouldn’t let any girl starve.” For a moment she looked like an angel, and then she yawned. “I’m tired out. I'm sleepy. I guess I'll go on to bed.” “Sister’s baby! I'll come up with you.” ITo Be Continned) PROBE REPORT AWAITED State Charities Board Investigates Knightstown Orphanage. Report of the state charities board probe of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Orphans’ home at Knightstown will be made at the meeting of the board Tuesday, John A. Brown, chairman, announced today. Brown said a full report has not been compiled. The investigation w'as started after charges w'ere made that officials of the home W’ere brutal to children and mismanagement of the institution was rampant. Trustees have denied the charges to The Times.

STICKERS isi Iri L U L_ LJ |d| Herr is a partially completed word square. It should contain, when finished, . nine common English words, four across, four down and one diagonally, each word composed of four letters. I : - —*i Answer for Yesterday G P ■LAD TEA REPENTANCE TEN RAT D L Here the completed double word diamond, with words that read across and down.

TARZAN THE TERRIBLE

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“Ko-tan is king” explained Ta-den. the hairless pithecanthropus. “I was one of his warriors I lived in his palace and there I met O-10-a.'his daughter. We loved Like-star-light. and I. but Ko-tan would have none of me. So he sent me off to the wars thinking I would be killed On the contrary, I returned victorious and then 010-a loved me more than before, which displeased her father still further." (

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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“Powerful is my father, Ja-don, the Lionman. Him, the king hesitated to affront. So the king conceived a plan to honor my family .vet withhold his daughter's hand for Bu-lot. whom he desired as his son-in-law. Greatly do my people honor our priests. Within the temple even the king, himself, bows down to them. So no greater favor could Ko-tan bestow upon a subject than to make him priest— IF the subject desired priesthood." 4

—By Ahem

“But I did not so wish. For, know you, our priests must renounce the world, and may never marry. O-10-a, herself, brought me word that her father had given his command. Already a messenger was searching for us. To refuse the priesthood, once it was offered me by my king, would be to insult the temple and the gods. That would mean death to me. But ts I did not appear before the king. X would not have to refuse." / ’ *

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“O-10-a and I decided I must not appear. Far better to fly with hope in my breast than to enter the priesthood and abandon hope forever. Beneath the tree shadows m the palace gardens I pressed her to me for perhaps the last time. Then lest by ill fate I meet the messenger, I scaled the great walls guarding the king’s palace and stole through the darkened city. My name and rank carried me beyond the gates. Since then I have wandered far. but strong In my heart Is the desire to return to my native eity." „ '

PAGE 21

—By William^

—By Blosser

—By Crarcf

—By Small

—By Martin