Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 211, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 January 1933 — Page 15

JAN. 12, 1033

SPOTLRJHXS®?

BEGIN HEBF TOPAT SHEILA PH AVNE, IS ■* he--* parents '!• ei,-xnn n t •udcviUe a •-'nr-, is in Yorx 1005.r.8 for a Job. Sli'lla U a 'lancer In rpite or the fact that she has n*r.' a.rroat her entire life or: the fa Be. her ambition is to marry and ha - .e a home ; tho'e she ha- :"n In small town - ;n which she has pla-ed. On a fw houra' not <he i hired to ts-.e the p.a.r of DAISY GLEASON ano'her dancer, who ha- spra.ned an ankle. She eo * 10 JOE PARIS office -,n Tin Pan A lev" to rer.e.ir ,• There she meet* • TREVOR LANE and DICK STANLEY, both rich. . . Lar.e a?k- She .a to dar.cr at a party he 1/ g.vtna b'i* ‘h rf u-e . knn mag that affe* a da of rehear' ng and the performance that night she will be too tired Sheila goes to the theater Tn<* show begins and she * .ns appla ise with her danr r.r Svdde: - Dick Stanley in the audience He wads for her after the -how and again urges her to come to Lane s party. Somewhat, against her be'ter Judgment, she agrees NOW (.O ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER EIGHT (’Continued) “They are dancing now," he said as they walked toward the bilge living room. “Let's find Trevor and after that I'll show you the orchard." "Orchard?” “That's what we call the terrace outride. After all it has more than one tree!” They laughed together, Dirk with easy assurance, Sheila nervously. Trevor Lane welcomed her gravely. He had turned from a laughing group of young women whom he presented. The girls seemed cool and Sheila set it down as that "society chill." Suddenly she recognized them. The Taylors—the Tapping Taylors! Perhaps th v thought her one of the society girls ready to snub them and mr-cly were beating her to it. That Was funny! On Dick's arm she moved through the softly lightrd room. Groups were standing, sitting, lolling on hugs chairs and divans covered with gaylv colored cushions. At, the farther end of the room stood a piano, a slim, patent-leath-er haired gentleman swaying slightly before it, liquid jazz pouring from his softly weaving fingers. There were ripples of talk. Laughter. Greetings tossed Dick’s way, "Ah, there, Dick!” "Hay—we missed you!” And then Sheila heard a feminine voice. The words reached her Clearly. Lightly spoken, taunting. The voice was saying. “ —but JDick's girls always are pretty, aren't they?” CHAPTER NINE SHEILA heard that ripple of laughter. She did not turn and So she did not Irarn the speaker’s identity. But the words brought a chill about her heart. "Dick's girls are always pretty,” the unknown woman had said. Os course such a young man as Dick Stanley must know many girls. He must be in constant demand at parties and dinners where there wore beautifully gowned, beautifully groomed young women. And say what, you would, clothes did make a difference! Look at what they could do for a newly discovered movie star. They had changed Norma Soabury in one short year from a pretty. ordinary little Brooklyn girl to a. suave,' sophisticated beauty who knew how to walk and talk, to xise from a chair and sit down. These girls who were Trevor Lane's guests were not like Norma. Their glamour was more natural, less affected. They had been born to this life of luxury. Sheila looked about her at the blond, black and titian heads, the gleaming white shoulders accented against the trim black coats of the men. Some were dancing, some chatting. Laughter broke forth and trickled across the room in gentle, well-modulated ripples. Then the brilliant rustle of voices suddenly was hushed. "There’s a clever little girl for J’ou,” Dick was saying, dapping as he did so. Following his eyes toward a Japanese screen which half concealed a door into another room, Sheila waited expectantly. She had not heard the announcement which had prompted Dick's words. Another little dart of jealousy shot through her. Here obviously was an entertainer of whom Dick approved. A hush fell and the girl stood before them. She was slender, not very tall, dressed in flesh-col-ored tights and a jeweled bodice. A silken fringe circled her waist. Her dark eyes sparkled in the •delicate, piquant little face beneath a lovely pink silk wig. She looked almost like a small boudoir doll. It was Frances Barton, the eccentric dancer. Frances was the best in her line—the originator of a dozen routines so difficult that only a few of her imitators could follow them. She had been in half a dozen Broadway shows and was in one now. Like Sheila, she had come to the party following the performance. ana SHEILA saw Dick Stanley’s eyes light and his smile flash. His gaze was as ardent, as eager as it had been when he had turned toward Sheila herself. Hotly she told herself that to Dirk Stanley she was just another girl. How could she have been so foolish as to believe that he was interested in her? Just because he had taken the trouble to call for her at the theater? “She’s grrat. isn’t she?" Dick was saying, unconscious of the tumult he had caused in Sheila's heart. "You must meet. her. I know you'll like her.” "Do you know her well?" Sheila asked. "Know her? I should say I do. Let's move forward. You don't want to miss this bit." "I know her. too." Sheila said, trying to keep her voice steady. "And she is good, isn't she? There's no one else on the stage who can touch her. Frances is in a class by herself." Dick eyed Sheila almost tenderly. ‘•That's generous." he said, "from another dancer. Darned generous. But of course "—hastily—"you aren't

KEPT RIGHT IN CELLOPHANE

i the same kind of dancers. You are about the best I've seen in your I line, you know.” Sheila laughed a little dubiously. "That's general too. Thank you. But I can't compare with Frances. That routine would slay me in a week. It just can't be done by anyone else." She always had admired Frances Barton and even in this moment hoped that she had not minimized the effect the other girl's talent always had on her. It was cheap—this jealousy—even though no one knew of it but herself. Why should she be jealous of the interest of a young man she had known less than foyrteen hours? Was it really only fourteen hours ago that she first had seen Dick Stanley? All day long she had thought of him, not as "that agreeable Mr. stanley” or as "Mr. Stanley” at all, but as Dick. Trevor Lane thus had nddresed him and Sheila had thought at the time that it was an apDropriate name. She was standing close beside him row. Tall, charming, with that delightful smile crinkling his nose. Dick was just a name. How well did Frances know Dick? ana A CLAMOR of applause went up as the girl began one of the most intricate Darts of the dance. She was delightfully graceful. Frances swayed like a lily on its stem, bent almost unbelievably and yet attractively too. She turned amazing somersaults, righting her slender body with agile grace. Presently amidst clapping of hands, she finished the dance, bowing graciously, bounding toward the audience on tiptoe and back again. Frances blew a kiss, light as thistledown, pranced on her toes and fluttered out of sight. It was indeed a pretty picture. One moment she was there, posing, smilink. Then she was gone. Instantly everyone was talking. Groups broke up and others reassembled. Kato appeared bearing a heavily laden tray. Trevor Lane separated himself from a girl who was hanging on his arm. urged her gently into a seat beside an all-too-willing and engaging youth, and hastened toward Sheila and Dick. "Dick promised me that he would try to make you change your mind,” he explained to the girl, with a smile. "So I took the liberty of assuming that you would do us the honor to sing.” He looked across the room as he spoke and nodded. “Joe Paris told me that you sing certain types of songs exceptionally well.” ana SHEILA'S heart leaped again at the mention of Joe Paris’ name. How did he know that she sang? That Joe Paris should remember her, know anything at all about her work meant so much. "I asked Mr. Davis to come along,” Trevor added, “to accompany you. I thought you would feel more at home.” “Blind Timmy!” The words slipped out and Sheila flushed suddenly. “Please don't misunderstand,” she said. "It may sound cruel to call him that, but it’s His name—almost a stock in trade. No one ever calls him anything else. I'd hardly remembered that hi 6 name is Davis.” “Yes, Blind Timmy. He seemed to be pleased that you were to sing. And he said that you had run through the songs with him a day or so ago.” Tii at was true. Only the other evening at Ma Lowell’s Sheila and Timmy had had an hour of music in Ma’s blatant old parlor with its paper flowers, dusty and faded, its gilt framed pictures of ageless ancestors and Ma’s other treasures. (To Be Continued)

7TTODK 6Y BRUC£ CATTON WE like to think that international affairs are handled by men who are wiser and better informed than the average; that the official acts of nations in times of crisis are brought about by seasoned diplomats, wno rise above the doubts and fears and stupidities of lesser mortals. However, Harold Nicholson, the English novelist, son of 'one of the British empire's most distinguished diplomats, 4 s at hand to disillusion uS. He just has written “Public Faces,” an ironic novel which shows just how inept and fumbling great statesmen can be at a moment of peril. “Public Faces” presents this situation: England holds a concession to mine a certain ore on an island in the Persian gulf. This ore yields an alloy lighter than aluminum and stronger than steel; with it English can make a fleet of rocket airplanes which will give her undisputed master of the air; and there is no other deposit anywhere on earth. The crisis comes when foreign nations band together to force cancellation of this concession; and it is then that Mr. Nicholson cuts loose with his satire. Sheer chance and ordinary stupidity play the major roles. The fate of nations Ls determined by such accidents as an English foreign minister stopping to talk to a pretty woman in a park. High politics becomes a grand muddle. Eighty thousand lives are lost because another cabinet member wants to make a splash in the newspapers. In the end the most stupid diplomat of all emerges as the savior of world peace—and. incidentally, of the British empire “Fublic Faces " is published by Houghton-Mifflin at $2.50.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

rwHLN YOU HOBBLE INTO TvV " BLJT THE TACT \S,I AM INSURANCE. OFFICE TO COLLECT ON fljfv ‘DISABLED?—AND.UNLESS ) YOUR ACCIDENT POUCY, AN' YOU {“ > 1 WAVE TO, I SEE MO REAL L TRLL'BM YOU WERE 'DISA'&LED BT ( NECESSITY OF GOING PARLOR. •RABBLIN', THEY’LL LAUGH /X, INTO "DETAILS ABOUT v YOU RIGHT BACK. INTO SOME A.- ( THE RASSHUS ( JOKE "BOOK.?—‘-~THEY'LL SAY,*HOW \ V. BPiSOOE A l DOES TH' ACCIDENT INCAPACITATE \ —? ALL YOU CAN f \ | t /A X answer, ts. A / and ;1 I

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

V Cl S 1 . 1 . SSffigT/ CHAMBER MAIDS >SI OUIHE WJOW OF FIDM.ESnX.SITS A —/ BUYOM MAIDEN, READ INS THE T>A)LY ‘ j >

SALESMAN SAM

Meres a kmfTV soiTujiTh\ (take jt'acoav’. I Aiooi <s-eT this, fella !\f '/a Noh.ver.'/ uj£ll' BuTncxh f uuwV, iki case iw'f pockeTs hre N r^ 1 -^ EVHRA LOM^- POCKETS JM TU / DOW T UJAkIT IT' GOAMNA SELL ME. A SUIT, SHOCU ) COME Yft OoMY UKETH 1 PICKED l GuoM’T 0£ So DEEPLY J , COAX VEST AMD PAMTs! Ny —— ME OWE OOITH VERV XAY-, UOWG-OWES? X v TOOCHEO 1 . iPtl rz. ' FT' 1

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

TV\'p>\OKE TOR

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

;,A " I — *y V ,M / ' K yi| Owr > Urjwl S.n<!C3tf Inc __

Tarzan, searching Karzenoff's uniform, recovered his diamond-studded, golden locket. “Now give me the papers!” he demanded of the girl. Without a word Olga handed him a folded document. ( For several minutes the ape-man seemed—

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

lost in thought. Then he said: ‘‘l came for you, too. It would be difficult to take prisoner from here, so I was going to kill y£ /e vowed to kill all your kind. But I am not such j a beast as your Red comrades, I can not

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

~7 X VAM l i'm OxCnm", avnT X ? \ 1 / Good niomt! s>£.e. x'm ’ on, A I OOPsi )Y AS FASsT' X *VMNJ ? CjOSH, UO'aH.NO! .> A PERSON A CHANCE ! I M OOn"T VOu®E JiS \ GO'M AFTEQ MV PocUE-T 6ccw ,TO act I MAWiV it I I \ GST SOU The MONISH FCP The MOVIES,,, LIKE \ LOOK WJOFSE ' V JUST UHt SOU ACT WHEN X J V THAT". J V THE WORM TURNS iV/ ' : 1 * REG U. S. PAT. Off. .1-12 ? 'MJ 8Y NCA ■i:F>vicC, mQ

i a, S!iTPCS'' AT ONC.E FOR. PANDEfAONIA. ADOLF. FASTER^/

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kill a woman.” He crossed to the window, and disappeared into the night. And then the dark-eyed spy stepped quickly to the body upon the floor. Slipping her hand inside Karzenoff s blouse, she ft

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

drew forth a little sheaf of papers which she tucked into a secret pocket before she went to the window and called for help. Nor did Tarzen of the Apes discover how again she had tricked him luitil it was too late.

PAGE 15

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin