Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 229, Indianapolis, Marion County, 2 February 1933 — Page 15

FEB. 2, 1933

spotlight:®®

bh.in hi nr today SHEILA WiAYN!: dax:r. f If dlch -i.'rt fr n: a nf* p jv beeaur.e MARTOV RANDOLPH. th* *tar. is J'slous of f flr.a.i’ >r- .r*v a part in a mu'.cal show soon to ci f ' tour. DJ'~K HTA V LEY. r;oh and nocU’.lv prom.-f • r.T to givp up this Job and rr.t.irv him hut "hula refuse* H*r Ida of : '■irfiie* ;s a home in a little town 1.-,- f:--r Broadwav •Jr.e ..r. jrts out on their tour •nd . i he omes friendlv *‘ith JAPPY < her • Sir. In a .tt> mdr'rn t ■ SI els :r,*ets Jerrv W '.man, who , .. She dot t • knew that Jerry’* father ov.i the Ti e young mar. tatccs hi :•' > r •t e : ' ’*• NOW t.O ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTFIi TWENTY-SIX f Continued) SHE reached the hotel in time for lunch. There was a matinee that afternoon. The first five rows in the theater were filled with young girls who patently were admirers of Mi r. Jefferson, the leading lady. The .- cavf> Sheila only perfunctory apple.nit but clapped enthusiastically when E’sie sang her love songs, j Sheila imiled at McKee as they! st ,od in tho wines. “Still wish you v. re a product of the protected h me?” he asked. “1 y did giggle a lot, didn’t they? It almost threw me ofl once or twice.” But the audience that evening rlv.v. r and its admiration for Sheila. T■. ;o applause literally stopped the rhow and she was sent back for a third encore. It was nearly 11 when finally she left the dressing room. ppy had gone already. ‘ Marion C' .. .... is inviting a crowd to that v. aria place,” sh° told Sheila. “She asked me to see if you would like to come along.” “Thanks. There is my beauty Bleep to bo remembered.” Jappy nodded, flew into her clothes and rush away. The entrance outside the stage door seemed entirely deserted when Sheila reached it. Under the light, though, at the far end, a young man stood waiting. As Sheila approached, he moved toward her, snatching a hat from his head. “Alone? What luck.” “Oh, it’s you!” Reluctantly she admitted to herself again that she liked this young man. Tonight he looked even more attractive. He was wearing a dark, wcl!-t;\i-lor and uit and he had an easiness of manner that bespoke a certain knowledge of the world. “Would you care to go to a little restaurant, about a mile from here?” He asked. “It's a quiet place and the food Is good.” He indicated a small roadster, by no means new, held the door open for her and. disappearing around the car, slid beneath the steering wheel. a a a PRESENTLY they drew up before a restaurant. Apparently other members of the “Heigh-ho” company had not discovered it and Sheila, was glad of that. It. was more pretentious than the other places where she had eaten. The tables were small and arranged in such a manner that privacy seemed indicated. Indeed there were but few other diners though the place had an air of prosperity. At an earlier hour it had doubtless been well-filled. A waiter brought menus. The young man consulted Sheila, gave the order. “I thought—that is, I hoped—l might see you at the brook tomorrow," ho told her when the waiter had disappeared. “I’ll bring lunch for both of us if you'll come.” He told her his name was Jerome Wyman. He was, of course, called Jerry. He saw that this name made no impression on her and seemed glad. He was working at the factory. Why? To make a living. He didn't tell her that all of J. G. Wyman’s sons (of whom he was the eldest) would start life that way, though they were almost certain to become millionaires in the course of the next ten years. He didn't tell her his father owned the factory and had built the model homes. He didn't tell her that he loved her, but his eyes said this and Sheila was glad. They talked for a long while and suddenly discovered that all of the other diners had disappeared. It was time to close the restaurant. The waiters were hovering about restlessly. “You'll come tomorrow?” Jerry pleaded. This time there was no uncertainty. Sheila said. “Os course.” , “Then it's good-night—not goodby." "Good-night.” Long after Sheila had slipped between the covers of her bed that night she lay awake. She smiled in the darkness. She was to see Jerry tomorrow. She f fit that she never, never had been ; o happy before in her life. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN JAPPY shut the door of the dressing room behind her. “So help me. Sheila." she exclaimed, “I believe you’re in love!” Cold cream jar suspended in midair. Sheila stepped short in her preparations before * the mirror. Towel pinned firmly around her head, eyes critically considering her reflection, she spoke carefully. “In love? Why. my dear Jappy!” Jappy tossed aside her coat, ripped off her hat and. sinking into a chair, began to unfasten her strap pumps. She was late by recognised standards. but. being Jappy. she probably would reach the wings a good four minutes ahead of Sheila. “That's what I said—in love! I’ve spoken to you twice and you haven't answered. And. speaking of love, who was tne Romeo you were with last night? And today at lunch?" Sheila rose from the dressing table, fastening her headdress, slipped off her kimono and drew her costume over her head. "You'll be late," she warned the other girl. "I'll Just saw McKee getting in." “McKee doesn't open the show.” “I ll be o'h time,” Jappy faced

WRIGLEY’S u. LOOK FOR THE REpTAPE OPENER

i\he mirror, spreading cold cream expertly, rapidly. A dusting of powder, rouge, blue lines about the eyes. “What's his name, Sheila? You're beginning to worry me?” in the mirror. without seeming to do so, she eyed her friend sharply. “To bad were leaving tonight,” Jappy went on. “I'm not going to leave. I'm staying over. I'll make the jump Monday morning. There's a train.” “Oh!‘ The monosyllable was expressive. Sheila usually liked to spend Sunday in the town where the show played on Monday resting, shampooing, going over her wardrobe, doing her mending. To remain behind for Sunday, a dreary day among strangers, meant just one thing. Sheila must be very much in love. “Who is he?’ Jappy asked finally. “I at least can wish you luck.” a a u OHEILA told her his name w T as Jerry Wyman. Just a nice boy who worked in a factory. He had shown her the little houses where employes lived. Little houses with tiny lawns and gardens, ironing boards that went back into the wall, showers, electric refrigerators, every convenience. “Did you discuss rents?” Jappy wanted to know. “Doris Haynes married that automobile salesman we met In Carrsville,” Sheila said irrelevantly. “And Grace Gordon married a cotton millionaire. But you notice she’s back on Broadway.” “The stage was all Grace cared about,” Sheila protested. “Five minutes!” droned the call boy and for four of them conversation was suspended. In the flurry of excrement Jappy’s shoes could not be found until she located them in the cretonne pocket of the dressing chair. As Sheila waited in the wings, she though happily of Jerry, Yes, she was in love with him. She was sure of it. She remainqd in Spencer until Monday. Jappy bade her good-by with warnings not to take the country lad too seriously. She was joking, but with that sort of raillery which veils deeper meanings. Sheila and Jerry had planned a picnic for Sunday. They would start a little late for picnics, but early, Jerry said, for stage people. Jerry had to attend church with the family rite, too, but he said he could escape that. “Just this once,” he told Sheila. He had not told her much about his family. She guessed, in spite of the insignificant car ’e drove, that his family was important. She guessed that there were other cars, but that this one was Jerry's to do with as he pleased. O tt tt SHEILA ordered lunch for two packed at the hotel. The head waiter raised his eyebrows as she ordered and promised to see that everything was as it should be. It would have surprised Sheila to know that the head waiter was a rare who was to accompany her on that picnic, just as he and half the hotel staff were aware what kept Sheila in Spencer over the week-end. By 1 o'clock she and Jerry had parked the roadster and were seated by a brook far from town. Oh, yes, Sheila was in love with Jerry. She liked the way he moved as he deftly laid out the lunch and broiled the steak which he had added to the feast. Sheila understood that his acquaintance with woodland picnics exceeded her own. (To Be Continued)

XTSCDK ~A~DAY BY BRUCE CATTON

l" ANN VICKERS” is Sinclair i A. Lewis’ appraisal of the modern woman; a novel studying the forces that shape her life and weighing the gains and lasses which the widely discussed ‘‘new freedom” has brought her. It. brings us, also, the most attractive and human of all Mr. Lewis’ heroines. The book itself may rank a notch or two below such a book as ‘‘Arrowsmith.” perhaps; ; but Ann Vickers herself seems to me to be the best feminine char- | acter Mr. Lewis has given us. 1 We see her first as a child, growing up through a somewhat lonely ; pre-war girlhood, going to a wom- | an's college, fumbling with the dawning idea of a day in which 1 women are to be freer than their | mothers were. She is a suffrage worker, then a | settlement house director, then an official in a woman's prison; she becomes an expert penologist, and j finally reaches fame as head of a model reformatory for women in New York. But although her life is successI ful, it is alonely one. She has a ; love affair, and her work gets in the way; she marries, and finds that her husband can't look on her as the capable and honored Dr. Vick- ; ers. but only as the wife who really , ought to be darning his socks and cooking his breakfast. In the end, she devises a make- ' shift, out-of-wedlock affair with the one man who seems willing to accept her as she wants to be ac- ; cepted—and this man is a discredited Tammany judge. And it seems to be Mr. Lewis’ conclusion that the cards are stacked against the ‘‘career woman." She has to butt up against a subtly hostile, uncomprehending world, and against her own impulses as well. She has to be | lonely. But she may, after all, find I that it is worth it. j "Ann Vickers" is published by Doubledav, Doran & Cos. for $2.50.

OUR HOARDING HOUSE

BJAKE —NOT yw yourol? 1 its cn cpvnviP M THIS JOINT th BLOW/ ) C YOUR OL ' s *it SWELL WAY TO TREAT K RAM\ LIAR MRS. HOOPLE ] > . VKA 1 GRUNT AT D Bfc STARTING fj * A I JU _ TH' TABLE/ HOUSE CLEANING ) HAY MG A LITTLE _ WApr } MONTHS YET/ / / TILL I 6ET ( DSH--- going j N EUI 4 THEN MRS. jMY COAT AN AN' we were 4 J rLL walk y™ | tSSulht (f Sff&Sßk T?MOREs/ W SWE WAS ONLY "FIRST s. ay wo, wwcl me.

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

Hoou A K jSa \ W // EOPE TIED TO THE (WELL, HEBE.) ,!/ [M/ Havjdba.il, ( we - ) \\ 1/IJ/i hJm FBKKLES TM /fj W SLIDE. DOVAJ • [ B or CH fjf tibubom , |

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

OASH CAMT BELIEVIE H\S EYES. LAST NIGHT THERE WERE -l. MILLIONS OP POIIARS \N THE ROYAL COUNTING HOUSE. J V % J

SALESMAN SAM

r \ UJftWT Yo W<M<e. A/ HTH' TS/ f. COWPLW.T—^WOSS,

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

CPAY,LIWW M3S: T VSV\OT AN VIAV\ I I, SHO VSLV? ?AW \6LT O’? W VS

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

Confident she was safely enough away to get a good start ahead of the pursuing blacks in the morning Olga's intention was to spend the balance of the night in a tree. Soon she had reached a comfortable branch, and stopped to look about.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Immediately she learned the identity of the beasts she had heard. Below her. clearly visible in the bright moonlight, was a thing that held her spellbound—fully twenty huge, shaggy, manlike apes. Their glossy coats glistened under the moon.

—By Ahern

r kJOW DOW'T GET TOO FAC ) j l ©vf WE'LL 7^ AWAY Ft?OM THE BOAT =IF J \ V Z

r (U6LL, ICA TG.LLI M v ypv Bowl YYoUG-H! LUHo ( OJAMMA COtfiPLPilKi ABOUT TK') HEAR.O OF SUCH A flour Va sold Mel it ojas ys Thimg-2 ^ —7 if ' IBlk’ K’s

OUT OUR WAY

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f mine HIMMEL*. VOUR HIGHNESS (UUAAT THE BIAYES*. WHY, LAWIE, ) / wF p,. N Doored 'x fliYi lw£sS

/ i \t ; : , NiO LO KiO '.‘.TECHNOCRACY \S A IAVSSV-LtTTAWS , AVfc WOUDS.AL SDLAS THLOW V4WtRT2>Y VJALLLS AN UV-L GROCcROtS \ TAVtL Vi\LL ’SL BABTD y . tv- > GO AV)' ‘SxNSX VM*' m\ \ 'LM UP AKi’ VO SWO DOLS GTT S ° ME

The hideous creatures seemed almost magnificent in appearance. Soon others, in groups or singly, joined the little band, until fifty of the beasts, of all ages, sex and size, were gathered together. Presently the group formed a circle.

f \~7 \ < : \ WELL,SO FA2 1/ AM' THEY . HEAC THAT ? J I DOM'T SEE AKJY J COULDM’T LIVE A HISSIWG, /AYE...AYE.~. IMDIAUS AIM (IMA, COOUT2Y SIMSIMQ J AM' I’M THE FIRST PLACE, \ WHECE IT ’WOISE \ Wcrr CCA2Y I DOM'T SEE HOW J CAIMS-LET’S // J / FOP MUSIC AMYOME COULD \ GO TH I SAW AY . LIVE OM SUCH A L !! J > SOCT"KK ■ p*i orr V 7 /////q 1533 BY WEA SCRVICE. IWC. J /2.\

Souhe. HEARIMG- IT RI<SHV MOUJI l tfiADC. Pie OJOVTI tAS HUS BAM D CUT IT l QIM3 BY NEA SCTWCE. ItIC. OFF, , '

They grouped about a small, flat-topped rnound of earth in the clearing’s center. Squatting about this were three old females armed with stout clubs, with which they began to pound upon the mound. Olga heard it give forth a dull, booming sound. 4

—By Williams

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

PAGE 15

—By Biosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin