Indianapolis Times, Volume 44, Number 308, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 May 1933 — Page 29

MAY 5, 1933

Dorlihg Fool was

w _^ v ..sF.r.l\ HKRK TODAY _ •JOmjIE ODARr ho lovrs DAN i AHOIGAN rich and handsome, discov-r:\fc-r friend SANDRA I.AWPKNrE i* FmIT-J?. If * ln from her CHARI.BR r.UHTACE r nearnn r r In town, oavs a Bood deal of attention to Monr.ie and helna her when her brother BH.L Beta Y'V* difficulties Bill nlana to marrv ANGIE GILLEN who work* in a randv *hon a, oon a* she ret* her divorce HETTY housemaid at the Lawrence home, dislike* her mistress nuspectine her of “vamninß the handsome chauffeur, JAMES Mounte starts out with Charles to find KAY h**r vountrer aister Who ha* Bone awav with CHESTER BIGELOW traveline salesman. NOW GO ON WITH THE RTORY fCHAPTER~TWELVE 'Con.) SHE came back to earth, to the shimmer of the June afternoon, to Chester, moist, but dapper, beside her. “I—l’ve got to be running along. My mother will be wondering ” “Aw. sweetness, don’t be mean! Come on, we’ll have a snack out at that place on River road. I’ve got the bus down at the garage. Her eyes were wide, frightened. "I can’t, honestly!” Was that Monnie she saw walking along on the other side of the street. “We could dance, baby. Honest, I'm dying to dance with you. Bet you're a honey at it, aren’t you?” If it was Monnie. she was lost. She said in a madness of haste. ”111 meet you at 8:30 at the corner of Main and Arverne—if I can. Good-by.” She fairly ran. Os course, she wouldn't go to meet him, she assured herself. That was just to get rid of him. She wouldn’t dare to go out to to one of Ihose night places. Chester ddin’t know it—she had. of course, pretended to be more sophisticated that she was—but Kay had never been out aftei sundown with a man. Boys had taken her ! to parties, but Bill usually had called for her afterward. She wouldn't go. Chester would be angry, would call her a “bum j sport.” She couldn't help it. And, I if he left Belvedere that night, as he had said he would, perhaps she’d never see him again. She felt a pang. Chester, who held out these brave promises of the golden life for her in the big city. Her mother met her with a worried expression. “Kay, some one’s been calling you from the school. The office. You’re to call back.” The voice of the principal's secretary answered her. "Miss ODare? Oh, yes. Mr. Bellamy particularly wants to see you before class tomorrow'. Stop in, will you?” She hung up, with hands that shook a little. So, she had flunked. That w'as what it meant! She couldn’t bear it —couldn’t stand the pity and the sneers. She’d have to do something to get away. Chester! CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHARLES said “Hot’ and smiled. He wore no hat and the pallor of his skin was a thing Monnie noted subconsciously. Unlike Dan, who w'ore his sunburn with a swagger. Eustace never tanned, but bore always, in spite of ha Hess horseback riding and mornings at golf, a kind of tropic indolence which suited him well. He wore, just now, the most elegant of careless white flannels and a blue coat. "You look awfully cool,” he said to the girl sitting on the low step, in the shadow of the honeysuckle vine. Monnie scarcely stirred. She felt the smile with which she answered him to be a prodigious effort. There seemed to be no life in her at all these days. Tonight, after a cold supper and after a shower, she had slipped into one of her oldest party frocks—a blue lace of two seasons ago, unsuitable she felt for anything but the warmest night in Belvedere. She had not expected visitors, but here, on her very doorstep, was the mast elegant young man in town! She said with an effort, “Thanks, I don't,feel at all cool.” She glanced up at him in the half dark, one flushed cheek resting on a slim, long-fingered hand, her breath coming and going quickly beneath the folds of soft lace. The bodice was cut rather low, and the creamy skin of her neck and bosom glimmered above it. Her ryes, shadowed with weariness and heat, looked big and dark under itheir fringe of heavy lashes. She asked him to sit down. He made a gesture toward the car in the shadows outside the gate and said slowly, “I’d thought perhaps you’d come for a drive —out where it's cool.” “Mother and Mark have gone to a strawberry festival," Monnie said with apparent irrelevance. “And Kay—Kay's over at 'Rissey's. I wonder if I ought—” “Well be back in an hour,” Charles said. "Why not?" She debated this. She had refused to go to the festival. She had said she was too tired, but the real reason was her desire to avoid people. Prying people who would ask questions. About Dan. About everything. With this man it was different. She could be easy with him. He was—well, a friend! She felt that. Splendid in his way. of course, but not. Monnie thought, the type to stir her pulses. a a a AS he held out his hand to assist . her. she gave him her own. A child's clasp. Charles Eustace felt, half piqued and half amused. “Believe I will." Monnie murmured softly. “If you’ll excuse this—this ridiculous costume.” He gave her a ntockipg bow. practiced eyes taking in every detail of her appearance. The lace v>nri been adroitly cut to shpw' every exquisite line of the girls figure. “It s a lovely dress." he told her. Monnie widened her eyes at his tone. There was something note quite cordial about it. Did he think she was fishing for compliments? She reddened to the roots of her hair, and in that instant Charles Eustace regretted his discourtesy. Used as he was to the

s ATI .

finished wiles of more sophisticated women, he had carelessly bulked this young girl with the crowd. “lin sorry.” he said awkwardly. “I really mean it. It is a lovely dress—” “Os course, it is old,” Monnie faltered, hurt by she knew not what. “It's a party dress, too, and unsuitable —but I was so hot—l had nothing else so cool—l didn't expect anyone—" She hated herself for it, but suddenly she was in tears. "Do forgive me. I'm an idiot—but I seem to be all tired out and we were so busy today at the store ” A big clean handkerchief was pressed into hei hands. She straightened herself, mopping at the persistent tears, trying to smile again. But it had not been just that. Both she and the man knew that his tone was the lash which had cut her deeply. Charles Eustace said, slowly, “Monica, you do know I’m your friend don't, you?” She stared at him. “I hope so. Os course!” He flicked at the bushes beside him with a willow switch he had picked up. "It's only—only that 1 get into one of my bad moods now and again and say things I don’t mean. I did mean your frock was lovely. But some devil of sarcasm put that edge on my voice. I don’t know why. Or yes, I do. I’m used to the sort of woman who invites comment on her attire. I thought, for an instant, that was what you were doing. I ask your pardon ” “But even if I had,” Monnie began, puzzled, “it’s no crime, surely, to want compliments?” He laughed on an uncomfortable note. Os course not. Monica, you don’t know anything about me. I’ve got a wretched temper. I’ve been through some bad times. Some day perhaps, I’ll bore you by telling you about them.” “It wouldn’t bore me in the least,” the girl told him demurely. Her tears had dried now. The little flare up had only served to heighten her color. "Wait just a minute. I’ll get a scarf for my hair,” she said, going back into the darkened house. She paused to scribble a line for her mother, and in that instant the telephone rang stridently. Her instant thought, as always, waking and sleeping, was “Dan!” She put one hand to her breast with an unconsciously dramatic gesture and called out to the man in the shadows. “I’ll answer that. Hope you don’t mind w-aiting?” a tt a LIFTING the receiver, she was conscious of an almost unbearable feeling of tension. But it W'as not Don’s deep voice that came to her over the w’ire. “Oh, Miss Anstice. Yes. How are you?” ■ She put cordiality into her tone. Miss Anstice was an old family friend. Charles Eustace, lounging against the pillar outside, heard a note of alarm in the quick, tense words that followed. “What? Yes—yes. Please tell me. Outside Miller’s garage just five minutes ago? There must be some mistake. She’s at Rissy's! Thank you. I know you won’t. Yes, I’ll do something about it—at once—good-by—” All the color new' drained from her cheeks, she returned to Charles Eustace. “Something terrible—l don't know what to do!” He put out a brown, lean hand, touching hers. “Tell me. I'll help you.” Eyes big and dark and unseeing, she stared at him. “It’s Kay. She's gone —with some man. Miss Anstice happened to see them. She’s not a gossip. She’s a real friend. They had bags, she said. The man was asking the best w r ay to Waynesboro.” Good Lord!” Charles said. “Jump in. I know' that road well. We can catch up with them.” Binding the scarf she had picked up from the hall table about her head with stumbling fingers. Monnie obeyed. The scents and sound of a June night received them, as the motor purred, and the powerful little car plunged down Denny street. Everywhere everywhere were little groups on porch and lawn. Lights in little houses. Laughter. The music of a radio. Monnie thought blindly, “Little Kay. Little Kay. I’ve got to save her.” “Miss Anstice didn’t happen to mention what, sort of car it was, did she?” inquired Charles, expertly swerving to avoid a boy, on a bicycle. “No. she—she—” Monnie’s teeth were chattering now', as if with cold. “I'm so f-frightened,” she interpolated “What if we don't catch up with them? I never can face mother!” The calm voice of the man in the driver's seat came to her. "Well find her," he said. “Dont you worry!” a a a A HEAD, miles ahead, on the -FA. country road, Bigelow grinned down at the girl beside him. “Cooler now, baby? That sure is a hot burg you live in.” Kay said, “Yes. lots cooler.” She cast an apprehensive glance back over her shoulder. “Sure nobody saw me when you stopped for gas?” He had a big, booming laughempty. meaningless. He employed it now’. “Baby, don't think about that old burg any more. You've shaken the dust from your shoes. You're slated for big times.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders. Kay shrank from it. “Hadn’t you better watch the road?” The laugh boomed again. “Don’t like one-armed drivers, do you, Baby?” Kay grimaced to herself in the darkness. She’d been a fool to come she told herself. (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

RW THINK I WAS "LOWIN' vf* JOVt OPFICJBR^'LfA TL& JES' GWISI' A JUST OVER TROM ENGLAND OR DID YOU THINK. AND IM A Bn CONFUSED* ANUT STAND ? MAYBE (-Ts Wrm SIGNAYS,,Y KNOA/j Nl AMUSEMENT TAX ON THIS | EVER BEEN TO ENGLAND*? GALLERY, BUT THAT DOESN'T* j\ NO WELL OVER. .ETTIN YOU JUMRSKbNALSAY THERE /TRAFFIC SIGNALS* BACK TH' CRASH UP TO TH' *S \ ARE JUST THE OPPOSITE , AN' WE'LL GO THRU SOME: J} TO WERE-YES^-UM-M-f 1 I >1 PCD

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

j M3U HAVt f YOU JUST ROAM f-WHILE I WILL BE BACK a. ■ ■ fc|| (3 ™ < AMD DONT KNOW AROUND THE OCEAN IN SHADYSIDE. WITH TAG, ALLCkJ /'CfZTi #T\U fr JV? ) rr.6ALLN-ANY RSH VISIT W.LUE. SUM, POODLE, TUMBOJ * J | .fc 5-POSL THAT OTFIEP KID WOULD PLACES AN D LEAD* i AMD GOOD OLD LINDVII [) > 1 BUT ’ 6EE - lT MEANS Ii GIVE ANYTHING THF LIFF OF Dll FV J L. S*' ( PRETTV 50FT < 'iwfr MUST BE SWE - LL TO ' 60m 60 BACK \TOBE IN YOUR s u, fFMFDAi /! AFTEP f /''PfflMh HAVE A BUNCH OF j(T SURE IS! ON THE 'SHARK* j SHOES/ V J j \ U ALL? X \%/ " PALS T ° 60 / AND. 60Y060V. - V - V_ ' j \ 6EGLAO

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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BOOTS ANI) HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

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•'No. Roger,” replied the girl, “I can not tell you everything—now. Some things I can tell nobody yet; You will have to trust me, blindly. But I will tell you what happened after you made me leap into space from that airplane, burning over the India mountains.”

•fHE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Tarzan had seen to it that plenty of fruits, nuts, and plantains had been left within the boma. Chill night fell and while the British aviator made a fire, Olga, the spy. prepared food. . . . Meanwhile. Tarzan of the Apes, returning from a successful hunt, paused in the branches of a great f *.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

yeaqstoq soon o r*c €*. me s-s^

f / SUHI YOU STICK THAT A ( SOU SIGN THEM ARTICLES! WitTH fc SWU)(a, e*SY UOOK IN ME fVGAIN ) -yr J 'UtuRNS AND SUjNS ABOARD V AND I’LL KILL YOU! / \ THE WHAteF.. THE MATE GRINS. ... ■ 1,1 " *" 1 , "" 1 - OWE SITUATION IS T&NSE, DRAMATIC. NEITHER MAN _ .Vl 1) ; MOVIES. THEY STAND TOE TO TOE. THE SILENCE IS DEATHtY.J,\ WORDHL

c 1 \( r~r { iNHY.THKt 6EEM6 I EOT THfcY OOT TO BE EGCH AFTER AW, VOA\.K\N6 \<b E OA . ARE YUH ABSOLUTELY. __J A BOTHER 1 AND REALLY, EXCELLENT EXEROSE- jl vNORRVEO ABOUT LMCYEO ~ I WANE MERY LITTLE USE ANO YOO GET MUCH ! GETTin' TH’ AiR, ,] Jw e 1933 BY Wt SEBVICe. fWC RtG. g. i.W.OfT. J

The ape-man shook bis tousled head and sighed. A growl of anger even rose to his lips as he chafed over the fact that fate had thrust upon him these two humans. The man, he might have tolerated, but the girI—NEVER! He had contemplated leaving her to the jungle's mercy.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

But that was before she had been instrumental in saving him from torture at the hands of the black Wambabos. He hated the obligation she had placed upon him, but no less did he acknowledge it. Suddenly he made his decision! At the same moment, Olga was unfolding her story to the man Who loved her.

PAGE 29

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin