Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 27, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 June 1933 — Page 13

JUNE 12, 1933.

PfißLinG FOOL'e^

CHA rr TER FORTY-RFVEN <Cntd.) She fairly flung the title at him. Charles, whitening under the attack, could not help smiling. "My Contessa? I don i know what you're talking about ” "Oh, don't you? Didn't you fight R duel for her last year, didn't she break your heart?’ There, she didn t ca-e how she hurt him. She wanted to He deserved it! In an Instant Charles’ strong fingers were gripping her arms. He was looking down at her with an expression of amusement and impatience. "You little fool,” he said in a caressing voice which took the sting from tlie words. "You—darlinglittle fool.” Suddenly Monnie was limp in his arms, was sobbing against his shoulder. Tenderly, Charles lifted her streaming face. •Im sorry. You know I didn't mean that." He was no longer arrogant, but strangely humble. "You know how I feel about you, Monica O'Dare.” 000 SOMEHOW. Monnie never knew' exartly how, although later she tried hard to remember, they were sitting side by side on the shabbily carpeted stairs. Charles’ big handkerchief smelling of tobacco and a faint whiff of cologne, was in her hands. 'My Contessa,’ as you call her,” the young man was saying very gently, “was a beautiful and very heartless young woman who led me a pace for a time. I didn’t ‘crack up' over her. I was a w'reck to begin w'ith, and finding out what a shell she was just put the crowning touch on me.” "You were in love with her then,” Monnie accused, feeling weak as water at the thought. “I was— well, fascinated,” explained Charles, patiently. "I was ill—not quite bright in the head, I Imagine. When I found out w'hat she was really like—using me as w stalking horse for her own purposes - I went a little gaga. I came back home, hating life, hating everybody. Then—” She prompted him. "Yes, then?” "I inet you,” Charles told her. ‘ You know this—you must know it, Monnie. I’ve been in love w'ith you from the start.” “I knew where I stood with you," Charles went on. “I knew how you f elt about—him.” Monnie shivered. Had she, indeed, forgotten Dan already? No, this was something quite different from what she had felt for Dan Cardigan. All that old love and longing had been mixed up, somehow, with her thwarted and poverty-stricken girlhood. Hadn't there been, in all of it, some desire to “show” Belvedere? Had she wanted Dan for what he stood for? No—no —she told herself passionately. It wasn’t that. She had really loved him with a girl's love. She had set her heart on him. They hadn’t been in the least suited to each other. Their marriage w’ould have been a disaster. But opposition had made their infatuation only stronger. With her new. sharply matured viewpoint she saw all this. Something of all this she tried to tell her lover, haltingly. “It’s not that I’ve forgotten Dan.” she said loyally. "I never shall. He belongs to my youth—” 000 CiHARLES, wanting to laugh at A her solemnity in this, took her two small hands in his own and said gravely: "I never dared before to ask you If I had a chance, because of Dan. When he was alive, I felt you were wholly his. And after he died, well, then I was afraid you had dedicated yourself to his memory. "You were almost like a nun, remote. spiritual. It was only after I discovered this Mackenzie chap was in the running again that I decided I might have a chance. But you were so stiff—so unapproachable—” She drew herself up at this, pretending to be angry. "It was you who were stiff. And all that talk of the girls you went about with, the parties—” Charles laughed in delight. “Jealous little cat!” "I'm not!” Aft her an interval of murmuring, Monnie straightened, saying in a scandalized tone: "Do you realize what time it must be? Mother will think we’re quite mad.” He helped her to her feet and she swayed against him. "What am I going to say to Arthur when he calls?” she wailed, perplexed. "Oh, Charles, I was going to be so cool, so wise! I was going to do wonderful things for the family with Arthur’s money. Why can't I be like that? My heart always runs away with my head.” "Don’t worry about that.” His tone was so odd that she twisted about to stare at him. "What do you mean?” "My dear,” demanded Charles, striking an attitude. "Don’t you realize you’re marrying a blooming captalist?” "You’re joking.” She really thought he was. He was a young man of taste and elegance, of course, but no money. Not much, that is. Or so she had always thought. "Wait and see,” he told her mysteriously. “Perhaps I'm not the beggar boy you thought.” And then they forgot all about such mundane matters. For the moment, at least. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT RISSY BRIGGS’ mother stopped by at Vernon’s drug store to buy some bicarbonate of soda. She had eaten too much chicken salad at the wedding reception, and besides she wanted to talk over the excitement with somebody, and she had just seen Miss Anstice Corey go in. Mrs. Briggs was wearing her new violet crepe de chine with a little knot of artificial roses pinned to her fox fur. She felt very elegant, much dressed up. "Lovely wedding!” Miss Ansice was beaming. “Lovely pair.” "The bridegroom is a very handsome man,” Mrs. Briggs contributed

Ia WRIGLEY’S SPEARMINT yw EVEN better

j ‘I thought Monnie looked a bit flyI away, and wasn't that a real plain | dress for her to choose? I can't ; imagine why she didn't wear a veil.” Miss Anstice raised the lorgnette \ she had learned to use in London and regarded her neighbor coolly. "Monnie looked perfectly beautiful," she told Mrs Briggs, "and that biscuit-colored frock was in the best ! possible taste. Her hat was a | French one.” The tone alone should have ■ squelched the irrepressible mother | of Rissy. but it failed to. i ’Well, I thought it looked mighty ; funny, sitting on the side of her | head so that you could see all her I curls. And she didn't look like a j grownup woman, as it seems to me ! a bride should look. That hat an’ ! the dress, toe, made her look like a little girl. Even though she’s years older than Rissy!” This last was delivered somewhat spitefully. 000 ANSTICE bowed, sweeping out of the store majestically, and thus putting an end to the conversation. Baffled, Mrs. Briggs gazed after her. Poor woman, she had genuinely longed to talk over the details of the wedding, but as usual she had said the wrong things.. She sighed, feeling angry and frustrated. It was upsetting, any way you looked at it, to see the O’Dares getting up in the world this way. Hadn't they always been "as common as you or me,” to quote Mrs. Briggs’ favorite expression? And look at them now—Monnie marrying a boy everybody said was a millionaire, Kay going (so the i story ran) east to college next fall, i Bill and his mother taking an aparti ment in Cincinnati while he took ; an engineering course, with Mark trailing along to enjoy the advantage of a city school. It was all perfectly disgusting, Mrs. Briggs told herself, selfj righteously. For her part, she’d never encourage her daughter to mary for money. Who would have thought this Charles Eustace would turn out to be so grand? Nobody had known until Monnie's engagement was announced back in the early spring, how "well connected' he was. And an orphan, too. That made it even more—well, certain. Mrs. Briggs took up her package and her handbag and started home. It was just like Rissy to flounce off with those girls—her "crowd” she called them—leaving her mother to go on alone. But wasn't that Gertrude Hampstead just up ahead? She might get a few more details from Gertrude who was “intimate” with the family. Hadn’t there been something between Gertrude and Bill O'Dare several years back? “Well, I see you were there, too!” Mrs. Briggs’ voice had a vinegary j tinge. "Quite a blowout.” Gertrude looked realy pretty in ! that blue outfit. Funny she had j never thought of Gertrude before ! except as a plain girl. “It was beautiful, wasn’t it? They just left. I waited and I caught the bouquet!” Gertruda explained. ; Mrs. Briggs observed for the first time the small nosegay of blush roses and pale sweet peas that Gertrude held. "My, my, quite exciting! You’ll be the next.” Why couldn’t Rissy have caught it? That would have been something to talk about. Gertrude smiled, looking tranquilly sure of herself. "Well, we weren’t going to announce it till Bill comes back next spring, but he said today we might as well —” She held out her left hand, showing the modest pearl ring. Well, well, thought Mrs. Briggs. I marching off with a sour expression, so that was the way of it! That yellow-haired hussy hadn't got Bill, after all. and she had quarreled with her old friend, Edith O’Dare, about the story. (To Be Concluded)

7TEGCK A DAY BY BRUCt CA.TON '| ' HAT lost and disillusioned "younger generation” we heard so much about just after the war has grown up by this time. What happens to it when it bounces into those major personal calamities that come, sooner or later, into almost every individual life?” "Great Circle,” by Conrad Aiken, puts such a case under the microscope, and the result isn't pretty. Andrew Cather, who grew up into rootless disillusion, fears that his wife is untrue to him. Tortured by anxiety, hating himself for a sneak, he unexpectedly returns to his apartments and finds his fears amply justified, with his wife in the arms of his best friend. Immediately he goes adiift in an emotional ‘hurricane. Loneliness, disappointment, fear and self-pity torture him. He wanders about in a daze, and as he does he re-lives his past, so that all of his life lies open before him. Far back in his past he digs up the roots of his misery, examines them, tries to rationalize them; and at length he brings himself to the point where he can face his wife again and, with her. try to pick up the old threads ome more. The whole novel is a somber psychological study, and it is told with such force *hat the reader has to chare Andrew Cather's troubles. It is not a pleasant book; it is depressing, often irritating, sometimes hard to follow. But it is presented with a sincere and powerful intensity. Published by Scribner’s, “Great Circle” sells for $2.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

JT.BE'RNALDY, EXCELLENT f WW I THINK ITS TH'§ll| a. ARRANGE TO GET THE * 'EfcST IVE DONE, )'f * AND SONNE SOCIETY LEADERS \> VET IS MY < 'WEIR PORTRAITS PAINTED BY )> TWIRD PORTRAIT\VY—=TVAIS PORTRAIT WILL MAKE { 1 TO hz vNOUS ? ILL PRESENT IT TO RIGS AND UM,BY JOVE f-UM-M-UMP ‘j riNGUISHED LOOKING WRETCH f / £ro JS CAUGHT IT,BERNALDY—THAT { l S 1933 BY NCA SERVICE A r|,|l J.Nj

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

AFTER ALL THE EYCITEMEKJT ( BOY- A FELLA DOESN'T KNOW §|| JUST WHEN 1 ( UELIO.- YES, J N ' BOY? THIS IS A SURPRISE’.! J° cocos r" LooklKJ at papers, uow mice home is, intil we i get settled. twis is pbeckles " ( \nonder\mwy we wants . T OP TAkIM A NAP, (JETS AWAY FROM 1T.... jfcTO THE PMOWE WAS NO-.l CAWT \ TO SEE ME... WELL ANYWAY, ict ) A. irrm I T ° START SUESSWU oyou ; o I’LL BE TICKLED PIMK , MOUSe, JUST DOIN<S — / DO-..-LEADING \ J. jj RAGING APE... REALLY ? ... TO SEE HIM AGAIN // A | j x ' TUE LIFE OF ’ jH_ WELL,

W ASHINGTON TUBBS II

- Jis vcnocksdto kingdom' come.

SALESMAN SAM

" tAVOEM OMLY OKIE WAY \ OF TU’ PfiAXTER. (S, \ HAYEM'T WELL.YOU'piN /i. \. \ K SAY 1 TWAT=, SWe.LLI WHEM’LL StiPPFC ) OUT-BACK TO TV4E OLD ! A Toe> AMD I'M OROKE—BUT l W(AMNfW MOT LEAYING- MY _^~ coMD FER tfiE-WH6RE |oeT tfiY <S-RIP AMO CHECK OUT \ —BOAR.OIWG- HOUSE TILL

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

r“ ni , ~ ' " 1 r 1 "■■ ■V I .' y .., -v CORA - YfcY, CORA- WYOO TOO. 1 A 1 WtYL , \ WO—MOVi, „ -. SWELL Wt pi >-> n iJjpt m be <so\hg ii, i ——~

TARZAN THE UNTAMED

Usanga, all unconscious of what was going on behind him, drove the plane higher and higher into the air. Tarzan glanced downward. Below him the landscape passed rapidly. Only a slender grass rope and the muscle of a frail girl stood between him and the death yawning there thousands of feet below.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

It seemed to the girl that the fingers of her hands were dead. How much longer could she cling to the straining strands she could not guess. It seemed to her that those numbed fingers must relax/at any instant and then, when she was aboujko give up all hope, she saw a strong brown hancrreach out and grasp the aide of the fuselage.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

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U. J ; V © 1933 BY NEA C REGUS J

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Instantly the weight upon the rope was removed and a moment later Tarzan of the Apes raised his body above the side and threw a leg over the edge. He glanced forward at Usanga and then, placing his mouth close to the girl’s ear, he cried: “Hav# you ever piloted a plane?” She nodded a quick, pffirmatigg.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“Have you the courage to climb up there beside Usanga and seize the control while I take care of him?” The girl looked toward Usanga and shuddered. "Yes,” she replied, "but my feet are bound.” Tar&tn drew his hunting knife from its sheath and severed the thongs that bound her ankles-

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—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin