Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 24, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 June 1933 — Page 19

TUNE 8, 1033.

DflPl IRQ FOOI iSE:

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE (Cnt.) Timidly, Monnie had asked what that was. Charles had always been curiously reticent about It. Dr. Waterman had fixed her with a penetrating giailce. “Why, the boy's an architect and e very good one. Didn't you know that?” he had asked briskly. ‘‘Overworked and had to take a rest in the south of France. Some girl played hob with him over there. She was an American married to 6 title. Charles got Into the papers—a •duel or something. His nerves weren’t mended. The boy was far from normal, really, and I wrote him to come here. I knew this liter: town of ours would be good for him. And it has been. Again Monnie felt that queer little pang. The town would be s'ram unfriendly almost, without Charles Plustace. She would miss him greatly. tt tt tt AS if in answer to her thoughts, his tall figure swung Into view Just as she turned the corner of her own street. Monnie’s pulse quickened at sight of him. M .mie said, offhandedly, “I hear jr, re going away.” His face fell into grim lines 6" .n. ‘ Who's been tattling?” • Oh, I didn't know it was a seen' t." Monnie flushed, feeling resentful. Why would he behave like this? It was so stupid. She wanted to be his friend, and he pushed her away. ‘ It’s not—exactly. Yes, I’m pushing along. Got to get back to work. I've loafed long enough.” "Did you stop at the house?” she Inquired a moment later, for want of something better to say. A half constrained silence had fallen between them. "Yes, to see Kay about those dance tickets. She stopped by to ask if I wanted to buy some and I wasn’t in. It’s a benefit, I believe.” Monnie had a cinema flash of herself, the maiden aunt, hovering over Kay's rosy children. "They y she used to be a pretty girl years ago.” She suppressed a sigh, hut Charles caught the half-uttered Bound and whirled. "You’re not ill!” His voice Bccmed so accusing that Monnie almost jumped. "No. What made you think so?,” He stared down at her, almost angrily. “You’re thinner —and so pale. It makes me—” he broke off, refusing to finish. "Makes you what?” Curious how She longed to have him finish the sentence. But he set his lips tight end would not. He stalked on. "Won't you come in?” They were at the gate now. "Thanks, no. I’d better not.” He lifted his hat and was gone. Monnie caught her underlip between her teeth, feeling wounded. Her brief joy in the lovely day was destroyed. How tiresome one’s friends ■were! How tiresome Charles, of all people! How incalculable were all men! a a tt NEXT day. Dr. Waterman, black bag in hand, charged Into the nffirc where Monnie, fresh and crisp in anew white blouse and dark blue jumper, sat typing case records. "Bless my soul!” Monnie lifted her eyes, abstractedly. "I beg your pardon, doctor!” He chuckled. “Just wishing I was young again. Wouldn’t I have more gumption than these young fellahs, though?” She blushed, tucking an unruly curl out of the way. "Did that nephew of mine stop by this morning?” "No. sir.” "He said he would.” The old doctor tapped his teeth with a pencil. ‘‘What’s the matter with him these days, any way? He doesn’t know whether he's a-foot or a-horseback.’ Monnie shrugged, trying to look detached. "Ah, there he comes now!” Dr. Waterman struggled to his feet, his great bulk blocking her view of the window. "Well. I’m too busy to see him, row. Make him wait. Let him come in in fifteen minutes. Do him good to cool his heels.” The door to his private office slammed. Monnie waited for Charles’ ring, her heart beating faster. Why had the doctor so deliberately left them alone together? She was nervous about having a tete-a-tete with Charles Eustace. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR MONNIE was at the telephone the following Monday morning. trying to get a blurred connection. "Long distance calling,” the op'" ator droned. ‘‘Calling Miss O’Dire.” Then came a man’s voice, lesiurely, deliberate. "Monica?” "Yes.” "This is Arthur Mackenzie. I’m passing through your town tonight. May f stop to see you?” Almost before she knew it she had answered him, and the brief connection was broken. A step sounded behind her and there stood Charles Eustace. "Sorry I interrupted.” She smiled at him. ‘‘You didn’t. It was just a friend.” Then she thought. "How stupid of me to be like this with him!” She explained. "It was Arthur Mackenzie. He’s dropping in to see me tonight.” "Dropping in?” Charles’ voice was sarcastic. "From London or Paris?” She flushed, lifting her chin. “Neither. Merely from New York. Why. don’t you iike him?” Charles shrugged. "He’s all right. One of those picturesque buccaneers of finance. Rich enought for—” "For what?” Monica prompted tiim. "For anything.” Charles’ tone dropped the subject. Courteously, as one stranger to another, he asked, "Is the doctor in?” "No, he’s not.” How odd, she thought, that he didn't know Dr.

AFTER EVERY MEAL

Waterman had gone to Chicago for that conference. Surely she had heard him tell Charles only yesterday about the trip. "I won’t stop then,” Charles said. He was gone with a cool and distant bow In her direction. "I hate him!” Monnie said, aloud in the quiet room. She was furiously angry. No one had ever made her so angry before. She wanted to quarrel with him violently, satlsfyingly. tt tt tt “IirHAT did you say?” Charles ’ ’ was on the threshhold again, lean and elegant. He had heard her! "Nothing!” She started back at him, all defiance. "Oh, yes, you did.” Suddenly his face was not two inches away from her own. He, too, was angry. His lips were set grimly. Monica deliberately pouted • her own, in the shape of a kiss. Almost before she knew what was happening he had pinned her arms to her sides, was kissing her fiercely, angrily. “You asked for that.” "Oh, oh!” she panted, struggling for release. "How dare you?” “You wanted me to.” He taunted her with that, letting her go. She would have struck at him blindly, but again those strong arms pinioned her as in a vise. "Saving them for Mackenzie, eh?” Monica flushed a deep scarlet. Not only the words, but the tone were insulting. "You—you’re insufferable! I don’t know why I ever thought you were my friend.” "Friend!” Charles laughed softly. “You must know that’s rot—friendship between, a man and a girl. Either they're in love and know it or—or —” "Or what?” She was still furious with him but curiosity had her in its grip. She must know what he meant to say. "Or they’re in love and don’t know it,” Charles finished shortly. He walked over to a mirror, coolly straightening his tie. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to behave like a cave man,” he said. "I just stopped in, really, to say goodby. I’m leaving day after tomorrow. Before I go may I wish you health, happiness and prosperity—all that sort of thing?” “Thank you.” Monnie was trembling all over. She could scarcely stand, but she was determined he should not know it. "I suppose I won’t be invited to the wedding.” "I don’t know what you’re talking about.” tt tt tt T TIS voice was harsh. "Don’t you? Miss Anstice says he wanted you to marry him in London and that you’d almost made up your mind.” ‘‘Really? Who’s listening to gossip now.” She wanted to put her hands on her lips and shout at him. She had never felt such a passion of violence in her life. "One hears things.” Charles lit a cigaret, watching her coolly. "And you assume I couldn’t resist the charms of great wealth?” “What girl could?” Monica whirled on him, a veritable small fury. “You mean ‘what poor girl’! Oh, how dare you talk to me like that? You never would—to some one—some one like ” She could not go on. She was afraid, desperately afraid, she was going to cry. "Like whom?” She regained her composure after a struggle. "Like Ellen Willard—or —or—Sandra.” Her tone had a wealth of bitterness in it, a deep, abiding hurt. Charles’ tone was contrite. "Monnie, I didn’t mean that. You know I didn't. I'm sorry.” She would not, could not, forgive him the injury. All the pent-up pride and loneliness of the past few months flowed over her and, putting her head down on the desk, she wept bitterly. He hovered over her, desperately contrite. "No, no, don’t touch me. You’re all alike—all of you!” "Whom do you mean?” (To Be Continued 1

7TSCQE AfW BY BRUCE CAITQN

OF the making of books, as the Old Testament writer remarked, there is no end; and a reviewer who has read more current books than is entirely good for him can perhaps be pardoned for pointing out that there are some kinds of books which he wishes never to see again. These include: Strong, realistic novels of the soil, in which repressed young girls, tired housewives, defeated farmers and strong, lusty sons of toil chase one another through 300 pages of trumped-up suffering. English novels in wfiich the hero is an artist, a novelist or a civil servant, and in which there is an American character who proves his Americanism by using slang of preSpanish war vintage. Detective stories ta) in which the detective is an authority on Chinese jads. the experiments of Pavlov or the breeding of chow dogs; tb) in which he remarks, "Oh, yes, I know who killed her . . . but I can’t say a thing just now”; (c) in which, just before the fourth murder, he murmurs darkly, "Pon my word. I don’t like this—something horrible is happening here.” Smart novels in which it is taken for granted that two people who love each other must go away together. no matter how much misery they may cause innocent bystanders to suffer. Memoirs by women who knew D. H. Lawrence.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

iU PULL- Sj? BY 30VE -VAOVM APR AID. W WOULD YOU LIKE: YOUR jj ME IN MY BOER BIT-AVA- iyL WAR UNIFORM K.I COULD r AND MEDAL|? k ~* COUUD >N IT DEPICTED WITH El ESS / SWORD ALOFT, MS CALLING A KIND J CHARGE/ COURT Sp HAW, THAT /

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

THERE. COUE.S PINKY.' \ WaL I WELL. I SUPPOSE. YOU’RE. # \ / SEZ YOU f I’LL EE f V oll Wit l ? nnuT Cl\ I HAVEN’T SEEM HIM \ LOOK. HELLO GLAD SCHOOL IS OUT BOY.' /( GLAD WHEN VACATION ZZ or Z" cc , C ( 'CAUSE DEN ) /^\ SINCE IVE BEEN HOME...) WHO’S A PINKY ')C NUTHIN’ LIKE VACATION, J \ 15 OVER, &IHJ&-VE. , TELL ME A FELLA V / ff ) I 15 HE AS TOUGH HEPE \ \ \ 15 THERE, PINKY ? / ( ME ff g LIKE YOU LI KES J / \ >J < hAS EVEP.O£?CAR 111 J fe Lflr Jk SCHOOL THAT | l• ) /(tougher! // Hg ' - t WELL HOW J i & *• J \/

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

!? V STILL A MILS AVIAN, THE WHALE T v \A#soumds. half am hour passes, avid 'swanKm'iim A SIX. MILE C.HAS& AFTER A UONE SPERM, THE MEM ‘ *OlOlllllll II EXHAOSTEP, TOO TIRED To EE EY-CATEJ).

SALESMAN SAM

WofJOR.,I PIMCWEO THIS WHy-ER-'/ft SEE., I LocKeoN A'fA S>TILL. PUZZLED ft BOUT TVT TWIUK l'n DOmY\ fB>OT ; DOU)M TO TM' CORMER. AMD I'LL BUV US A <3-IMK FER. STftG-IM' A VJORM 'EM UP UJfCH TU’ f'RISOMER, SQUIRtteRS*! C'MqU,FELLAR,TeLL) ENOUGH To SQUEAL A CtG-AR OOITU ~od' TUIO B\TS l <3-0T TH' G-UV SHOW WITHOUT A UcewSE! BUT THE'f UJU2_ GONE (OWEN CA€L WHAT BeCAME OF ; £m! yON f>WSeLF?NuTkIM' . I SOLD Tol - - s ——i r— r-^r — ' SEARCHED HIS CELLI . A , DOIN', COP 1 S oTv^Ti J — IJT -31 lit VLY/ C 5 a POOL

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

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Tarzan felt uneasy and restless. Once, he started north. But he came to a sudden stop. “Here is an Englishman,” he muttered, “and the other is a woman. They can never reach th£ settlements alive without my help. Tarzan is a fool for. caring ” Nevertheless he started at a brisk trot, southward. .

J THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES 1

Manu, the monkey, had seen the two Tarmangani pass, a couple of days before. Chattering and scolding, he told the ape-man all about it. Then Tarzan swung on through the jungle. He lAind numerous evidences that Roger and Olga £fd gone In the direction of the cannibal village.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

/ ALL Right! ALL RI&HTIXILGoV-T X GETCHA - YOU’VE SEEM \ 7 DOWN! AN' GET Si S OUT A \/ THE PICTURE —VAIELL, IT 'S 1 WANNA Kmov'J 15, WHV'D f\ BE SENDING YOUR DAO I /n„ _ APTER voo! GET/ (,*}) Wh\V MOTHERS GET' GRAY 6-a BEG U S PAT. OFF, ®1933 Br Nt SEBVICE, INC-

( *’ ‘ Ifew “ 7 1 l'.| Y\\ U\ v-?> % . /,/ V ''■iMM'Y-t \ Tut urn ale re appeals in deadly cowbat 'with _ reg u s pat off ' fAOViSTER OF THE SE\I£N SEAS. \ Y.S t 933 by nea service, inc.

He was certain that the white man and the Red spy were in dire need of his help now. Racing along the wide elephant path bordering the river, he continued south for several miles. At last there came to the ears of the ape-man a peculiar, whirrinj throbbing sound. For an instant he - -f

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

When Tarzan of the Apes finally reached tha edge of the meadowiand where Lieutenant Cecilplane had landed, he took in the entire scene in one quick glance and grasped the situation, although he could hardly believe the things he saw. Coming ■>: axd him, down the meadow, was an aizplanqV _ „•

PAGE 19

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin