Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 298, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 April 1933 — Page 13

APRIL 24, 1933.

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unurr.®* fRf TODAY MONICA O'DARE 20 end beautiful. )s In love with DAN CARDIGAN one of the town * rich young men. At a local oanclng place where aha has gone ith DJO she meets her friend SANDRA LAWRENCE, with a handsome and newcomer C H A P. I,ES ELSTACE Sandra Immediately take* charge of Dan. and Monica, hurt, allows Charles to ecort her home NOW no ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THREE (Continued) It was a spectacle to which Monica was accustomed but, seen with the eyes of this amused newcomer, it suddenly took on anew light. She forgot her pain in Dan’s defection sufficiently to smile with him. “It is rather funny, isn’t it?’’ He shrygged. “Seems so to me. Is it the very newest?" Monnie told him. “The high school girls all do it. My young sister Kay—“ He interrupted her. “Ah—l was sure you girls must be sisters. I see h"r every day when she passes the office,” Monnie said, surprised, “But I didn't know you had one.” Then she flushed because she had revealed so much interest. “I haven’t,” Charles Eustace told her. "My uncle’s place is what I mean. Dr. Waterman’s. I go down there every day to read.” a a o r V 'HEY returned to the subject of 1 Kay. “She's extraordinarily pretty,” Eustace said thoughtfully. "Or rather I should say she's beautiful. She has a sort, of—sort of luminous quality about her that's dazzling." Monica reflected that Kay would be wild with delight to hear this. Poor child, she had few enough compliments! The music stopped, and they returned to their seats. Sandra sat back, smiling faintly. Dan, as he rose, wore a moody look. Monnie pretended not to notice. She felt unaccountably lighthearted. Dan Cardigan wasn't the only man in the world, after all! She was foolish to let every chance W’ord of his, every small slight, wound her so deeply. Sandra gave her a quizzical look. It was almost as if she interpreted. Monnie’s heightened color aright. For the first time, Monnie felt distrust of Sandra Lawrence. She hid it, beginning to chatter gayly of nothing at all. Had Sandra planned this encounter, she wondered, under the cloak of her gayety? Had Sandra known she was to be at the dancing place with Dan and, knowing, had she brought Charles Eustace as a decoy? No, no, the thought was too fantastic! Eustace was far too desirable a companion to be used as any woman’s catspaw. She was, she thought, full of strange fancies tonight, and at the thought she frowned. Dan-it was always Dan who inspired this mood of envy and distrust. She could never be really natural when he was about—must always be acting a part. Sandra toyed with her sandwich and Dan gloomed. On a sudden impulse Monnie said calmly, “I must be getting along. Dan. You know I said I'd be home early.” He muttered something rather ungracious and Monnie rose, rather fearful inside, but determined. “All right, Dan, if you want to stay and dance with Sandra perhaps Mr. Eustace will take me home.” It was a chance throw and it told. Dan got to his feet. “Sorry Monnie fc°ls she has to break up the party.” That made her ashamed, but she held to her determination. “You don't, need to leave now, honestly, Dan.” Charles Eustace had risen, was smiling at her oddly. “I should be delighted if Miss Lawrence approves the change in partners.” No one could have told what Sandra's emotions were. If it was triumph she felt, she veiled it well. "Stick around. Dan,” she advised idly. "Mr. Eustace will take good care of Monnie—and, after all, you can see her tomorrow any time.” Her flashing glance advised the company that Monnie was always available. All the other girl’s soul rose in outrage at this challenge. “Not quite that,” she said coolly. “I’m frightfully busy these days. See you sometime. Dan.” Her heart was beating very fast as she left Dan and Sandra alone together. She felt a little sick, and her victory tasted bitter in her mouth. n n a SANDRA came rushing into the drug store the next day, quite as if nothing had happened. In the face of her bright cordiality. Monnie could do nothing. Hadn't she, after all, made the initial step the night before? Hadn’t she offered to leave Dan with Sandra. going off home with Charles Eustace? Oh. she was just fidgety and suspicious, that was all! Sandra was so sweet—you had to trust her! “You minx!” Sandra exclaimed archly. Monnie, wrapped up the box of expensive face powder her friend had charmingly demanded, turned to stare. “What do you mean?” Sandra looked more arch than before, her thin, prettily rouged lips smiling mockingly. “As if you didn't know!” "But I don't," Monnie protested, in all honesty. "Bagging that handsome devil.” Sandra murmured. "You're clever, Monnie darling. Cleverer than 1 thought.” Monnie flushed. "Do you call that bagging him?” “I do.” said Sandra emphatically. Then she leaned' closer so that no one else in the store might hear. Her tone was low. intimate, -onfidi§g. "He's your sort. Monnie,” she said softly. "Take him off my hands. There's a lamb!” Monica threw up her head, her eyes, flecked with that lambent golden light, studying the other girl's innocent face. "I didn't know he was on them—exactly,” she said slowly, displeased at the turn the conversation had taken. a a a SANDRA'S laugh tinkled across the counter, and several loung-

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| ers at the soda fountain turned to stare at her. ; "Oh, my dear, you know how it Us” she said with an airy gesture. Sandra's assumption that every unmarried male tn Belvedere paid court, to her had irked many of her contemporaries. Monnie had never felt a surge of irritation at this assumption before. Now she experienced it. Os ; course, Sandra was charming—but—- " What are you thinking of?” Sandra demanded. "Nothing at all,” Monnie said hastily. "Well, then. I'll be going,” drawled Sandra over her shoulder. "See you soon.” She had not said a single word about Dan. had. in fact, deliberately left his name out of the conversation. Monnie burned to know what they had talked about the night before. Sandra was her good friend. But what had she said to Dan about her? It would be easy for Sandra to dismiss Monnie with a phrase. She could say, "Os course, she’s a nice little thing. Danny, but—” and leave the implication that Monnie was a nice little thing but her people lived on the wrong side of town, in the wrong sort of house. Would this matter to Dan? Perhaps not to him, but to his snob- ! bish family—yes. Old Judge Cardigan looked ’way over Monnie’s head 1 when he came in to buy shaving cream. Geraldine, Dan’s sister, ! gave her the coolest of nods when , they chanced to meet. If Monnie raged at this in her heart, there was nothing she could do about it. Dan could change it j all quickly enough, if he wished. No ! one in Belvedere would dare to snub Mrs. Daniel Cardigan. Monnie answered the telephone, took orders, all in a sick sort of daze. Things were not going at all as she had expected when Dan came home. What was she to do? She seemed to be losing him. CHAPTER FOUR THE days dragged on. Monnie had not dreamed there could be pain like this. To know Dan was in the same town and not to see him was sheer torture. May proved to be a month drenched in sweetness. Lilac scent filed the air. forsythia blazed in every dooryard, the nights were moonlit, soft and still. Still no Dan. She did not even see him at the wheel of the roadster, skimming along the roads. At home, the family forebore to ask questions. Kay was caught up in a whirl of high school activities. Bill came and went, ate his meals moodily, and slipped back to the garage. Monnie came out of her own daze of misery to realize there was something definitely wrong in Bill’s sphere. He was - more silent, more dour than usual. Poor Bill—it was having to work too hard and too early that had weighed him down so that, at 22, he seemed years older. And their mother—Monnie had twinges of worry about her, too. She seemed cheerful as always but her step was slower. She sighed deeply and quietly when she thought no one was about. All the O’Dares seemed to be drifting. What was it all about? Why did other people have good times, bright, happy homes, while the young O’Dares must carry this heavy burden? At this point in her reflections, Monnie always shook herself vigorously. “This is nonsense,” she would remind herself. “Aren’t we all well and strong? Haven’t Ia job and a roof over my head—and —good friends?” She was arguing with herself thus one day, hurrying home for lunch, when she ran straight into the arms of a tall man. “I—oh, I beg your pardon!” All scarlet lips, flashing amber eyes, she stared up at him. (To Be Continued)

ZTSGOR AW BY BRUC& CATTON

ROAD,” by Merle Colby, is a novel which studies the opening of the northwest territories a, century ago—a book which tries, with a very fair measure of success, to catch the epic, soul-lifting swing of those days when a tremendous human flood swept over the Alleghenies and poured down over the raw new lands of Ohio, Michigan and Indiana—the days when all men’s faces .were turned west and a boisterous, turbulent hope was in the air. Its central character is a young man from Baltimore who comes out to claim a thousand acros near the Maumee river, west of wherfc Toledo now stands. He comes as a romantic adventurer, and he quickly finds that pioneering is a grim, body-breaking business. But he sticks to it, and presently he founds a wilderness town, building it up by sheer determination and force of will. The town's rise makes a colorful story. The settlers fight a pitched battle with United States troops for their homesteads. A group of “fancy ladies” comes to the town—and dissolves when the daughters of joy marry their clients. Boon times come, banks issue a flood of wildcat banknotes, the town becomes a little city, and the unscrupulous ward politics of the future begin to take shape. Then comes the deflation—and most of the settlers head west again, firm in their belief that beyond the next hill there is a fairer land. Our town-builder starts from scratch once more. The frontier has passed on; the future is to be more sober, more solid, more comfortable —and less exciting. Published by the Viking Press. "New Road" is priced at $2.50.

OUR HOARDING 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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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

u/jJBSBKa un r**r R ic e Vartouclx Irc Prndwff-a BY uunro BEATORZ SYNDICATE. INC

After Olga, one by one. came the nine apes. Searching quickly she discovered a spear and with this to lead the attack, she again approached the entrance. . . . Tarzan of the Apes and Lieutenant Jerry Cecil were securely bound to the stakes.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Neither had spoken for some time. Now the Englishman turned his head to see his companion in misery. Tarzan stood straight against the stake. Only indifference showed on his countenance, though both men knew of the torture to come.

—By Ahern

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OUT OUR WAY

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“Good-bye, old top,” whispered the young lieutenant. Tarzan turned his eyes in the direction of the other and smiled. “Good-bye,” he said. “If you want to get it over in a hurry, inhale the smoke and flames immediately.”

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“Thanks,” replied the aviator, and though he made a wry face, he drew up very straight and squared his shoulders. The hideously painted warriors were forming slowly now to commence the dance of death!

—By Williams

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

PAGE 13

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin