Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 29, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 June 1933 — Page 21

JUNE 14, 1933_

BARGAIN JBrioe \/ KATHARINE MAVILAND-TAYLOk * sivf,wc„

BEGIN HERE TOT>ST BARRETT COLVIN 35, returns to Ne* York fter four \rßrs' bsenc*. He is rich *nrt ha made a name for hlmseif an archeologist. The first to greet him Is his ha.r Miter, MARCIA RADNOR, younger, selfish and spoiled. Marcia Is happily married noo Years before Barren shielded her * hen a youthful flirtation ended Marcia had a eon whom Barrett adopted. She is worried becau.ve the boy's tutor has threatened her with blackmail and declares her husband wllj never forgive her if he >arn the truth. Barrett agree. . 0 deal with ihe totor, HAROLD DEXTER As Marcia Is leaving she sees ELINOR STAFFORD across the street and offers to drive her home Elinor. 20. has been calling on her wealthy aunt, MISS ELLA SEXTON. All Miss Sextons relatives 'with the exception of Elinori are eagerly awaiting her death hoping 'O Inherit a share of the .Sexton fortune. Elinor s mother Is the worst of the lot. Marcia and Elinor depart. Instead of going home Elinor goes to a shabby apartment, house, knocks at the door and ravs "It's I. Philip'" NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWO < Continued) "Not at all!" Marcia answered. ‘ Are you going in for artists, my dear? Personally I think they’re rather over-done.” The girl did not answer for a moment and wheft Marcia turned she saw that Elinor was flushed. Marcia laughed delightfully. "You sly child!” she broke, out. "I think you’re having an affair!” "Oh, no, really!” Marcia thought, amused, ‘‘Heavens, how embarrassed she is!” "Mrs. Radnor, ” Elinor added quickly, ‘I would rather not have any one know that you dropped me downtown.” "No one shall know. I’m absurdly kind about keeping secrets,"Marcia assured her. "I knew you would be!” the girl said with a grateful look. ana MARCIA flushed a trifle, but only a trifle. “Did you know I'm going to have ft baby?” she asked. "No, I didn't,” Elinor answered. "You must be very, very happy!” "You are a dear!” said Marcia V. armly. “Yes, I am. But most of my friends don’t feel that way. They say, ‘Poor darling!’ a.s though It were something calling for sympathy. That’s the usual reaction.” "I think it's a most unpleasant reaction.” “Yes, Isn’t it?-” Marcia drawled easily, carelessly. There was a silence. "I think I’ll leave at the next corner, please, and I thank you so much, Mrs. Radnor —and for asking me to come to see you, too—” “Darling, I’ll love to have you,” Marcia responded. Speaking into the tube she told Jensen to stop the car. Alter Elinor had disappeared in the crowd and the car was moving on again Marcia wondered about the girl and why she wanted her trip downtown kept a secret. Marcia rather hoped the youngster wasn’t concerned in anything disagreeable. Elinor was so young. So much could come to one who was so young, so much one was not ready for yet for which one was eager! Elinor turned into a side street that once had been an alley. The moist, chill of the day had touched it. The building into which she turned was old and marked by the hard years it had known. Stairs tilted forward, their edges splintered. t At the head of the third floor 'stair Elinor tapped upon a worn door. "It’s I, Philip,” she said. CHAPTER THREE fTAHERE was the sound of some 1 one moving behind the closed door and a voice called, ‘"Just a moment —!” An instant later the door opened. A young man stood inside. He smiled at Elinor a trifle bitterly. ‘"Envoy from the land of plenty!” he muttered. Then, turning aside, he added a harsh, ‘‘‘Come in!” "Hello, Philip.” Elinor crossed the threshold, depresssed. Her cousin, Philip Sexton, often was so difficult. Philip's smallness and thinness were emphasized by the robe he wore over his frayed clothing. It was not far of him to treat her to* he did, she knew, but still Elinor loved him. "I brought the money—all I could paise.” she began. "All you could raise?” he echoed, frirows lifted upward, smiling unpleasantly. Elinor’s chin set. “I’ve told you,” fche confessed unsteadily, "a million times how it is! We keep up this effect, on—nothing. There are bills everywhere—!” "Oh, yes. Waiting for the old Indv to die!” Elinor sagged back wearily. It teas true in a way, but it was not lme of her. "Phillip,” she appealed. •Ten't you be reasonable?” "Look around you,” he invited bitterly, “and tell me whether you think these surroundings encourage turning the other cheek!” She had no reason to look. She knew the room well—its appalling shabbiness and open revelation of poverty. The effect was cruelly emphasized by the silver-backed toilet things that Miss Ella Sexton had given her orphaned great-nephew when he lived in her home and before she had learned about his forging her name on a cheex. n a a ELINOR watched Philip's nervous. slenderly effeminate hands roll a cigaret. He lit it, dropped to a chair facing her and studied her quizzically. “I imagine you don't advertise your visits here to our esteemed great aunt,” he hazarded. "How can I—with mother and father feeling as they do? I'm not alone, Philip!" she protested. She opened her purse, saying, dollars is all I could manage. Philip.” He took the bills with a dissatisfied, "Well—and a listless rise of the shoulders, folded them and slipped them into a pocket. She sat, big, violet eyes cast down. She always was shamed by these transactions which turned him either debonair or petulant. "How is your work going?” she fcsked. "My work!” he laughed unpleas-

SWEETENS THE BREATH *=*©

antly. “I wish you could come down some night and see me banging on the tin-pan piano In that Joint! “Occasionally, somebody flings me a coin. Charming, isn’t it?” He sat brooding, his weak chin dropped and his pale blue eyes fixed unseeingly on a window which gave vision of the crowding, soot-stained walls across the way. Once more he had stepped back into the old days; riding with Miss ELa in the park; courted and flattered by other members of the family who felt he would be Miss Ella’; chief heir. Those days had been pleasant indeed, although he had rebelled against them at the time—rebelled against being kept short of money and always at the beck and call of an old lady who had not the slightest recognition of a young man’s needs. tt it a E ELINOR, after glancing at an alarm clock on the bureau, rose. Philip went with her to the door. "Goodby, dear,” he said, and kissed her. "Goodby. I’ll come next wees. if I can.” "Please do!” He watched her down the dark, grimy stairs. Elinor hailed a bus, boarded it and settled down to ride uptown. The visits to Philip always depressed her. In an hour he would begin pounding a piano in a cheap case. At the same moment, she, her mother, and the other relatives would begin dressing for dinner. Philip was weak but hfe had never been helped to gain any strength. The life he had known had drained his slight strength. Not * like Mr. Barrett Colvin, she mused, whose muscles would have grown stronger if circumstances pushed him down —but of course he was exceptional. She remembered with gentle amusement her little-girl adoration of him. lEAVING the *bus* she realized -J that, for the first time after a visit to Philip, she had forgotten him and the mood of depression that usually came as an aftermath to a chat with him. “Os course,” she thought, “a man like Mr. Colvin would never even think twice about me,” and suddenly she felt the chill in the late autumn afternoon. If things had been different, and she had known how to make herself attractive he might have thought twice about her. But she had heard her mother say often, ‘Elinor has no social gift; not the slightest realization of what interests people, how to talk to them or what will please them—” Elinor saw this, of course, and judged from it that she was a failure. Up to this day she had accepted the fact and concluded there was nothing to do but try to make the best of it. Now suddenly she wanted to attract as did other girls whom she knew. She wanted above all to have Mr. Barrett Colvin show some interests in her; to have him unable to keep away. She nodded, smiled at the doorman outside the large building into which she turned, the building that held the Staffords’ apartment. "A wet night, Miss Stafford,” the man said. “Isn’t it?” Elinor paused to add. “I hope your little boy is better, Wilkins?” “I think he is, thank you, Miss.” He heard her warm, “I’m so glad” and looked after her as she entered the spacious, too ornately impressive foyer. She was one of the best, he reflected, as he’d said often to his wife. The doorman turned quickly as a motor slowed. That was her mother in the taxicab, escorted by the usual young man. The doorman stiffened his face to guard a sneer, then deferentially opened the door of the cab.

(To Be Continued) TrsnoK Ttmr BY BRUCt CAITON

by Charies G. Norris, is another item in Mr. Norris’ specialty—long novels with short titles. Unfortunately, it seems to this reviewer to be about the weakest one he has yet given us. It has to do with a young San Franciscan and his search for what Elinor Glyn would call his soul mate. He never really finds her, although he surely hunts persistently enough, and in the end he comes to disaster; and the title of the book, as nearly as I can make out, derives from the enthusiasm with which he prosecutes his search. Twice the lad gets married; first to a daughter of decayed gentility, who torments him because he doesn’t get rich fast enough and who. at last, leaves him. Next he marries a more level-headed and companionable young lady whom he. for reasons that aren't quite clear, himself deserts. In the meantime he has an affair with a girl at his office and another one with the wife of an army officer. It is this latter charmer who gets him into a jam. He leaves his second wife to go and live with her, and when he tries to walk out on her, she up and plugs him; and Mr. Norris has made such a cantankerous female of her that it is impossible to understand why any man in his senses would have anything to do with her. All in all. the book is a waste of time. It's a pity, because Mr. Norris can produce first-rate fiction. Published by Doubleday, Doran & Cos., ‘’Zest” sells for $2.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

fjpf YES,SIR—THAT TAINTIN' IS SO 'SpIfX M -REAL, YOU EXPECT IT TO CUT LOOSE WITH A HIGCOUGW ANY V WORLD-PAMOUS \ MINUTE; IF I DIDN'T KNOW ] V CM AS I YOU, I’D*GUESS IT WAS A PICTURE / > PRESIDENTS, 'DICTATORS, OF SOME errv WALL BIG SWOT - < > "ROYALTY, AIM'D LEADERS L Y KNOW —A G>UY WWO GOULD X OP INDUSTRY / Z GET TRAFFIC TICKET'S CHILLED, WHY, TWE GREAT f OR SWAVE APAIIS BAIL ? / > P>EPNALDY WOULDN'T -> | V ®YEP r TW' ARTIST GOT YOU TO A\ ( EVEN PICK UP A PRUSW ItttxT 7 T<7 -—EVEN TH' EXPRESSION ON /r, ' FoR UESS TMAN 'A t’h' MUG —c3ES'AS\FNOU U / THE *F INIS WED A BIG SPREAD OF ) SITTER MUST FIRST ]> PIG KNUCKLES fy&L, -BE.OP SOME J cjj~j I 1...

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

r VOO LMOW TWAT OLD ABAMDOMED ) Y&AW...TLIAT WAS ( WELL, THAT OLD LOOP LIME YEAH? GO OK/-. I'M LF SHAFER SAP / ‘ ' s^?f, K ' T J >LAWT ' O iU> OKI " nJEk:EY \ YEAES ASO, B6D~. HASN'T BEEN USED SINCE THE BUBNINS UP WITH UE WENT BY THESE ) T ~r I DON'T EITHER, X-, H? THE BIS SURPRISE FOB you, "THE SURPBISE f AN' SAW A PHANTOM i IT „ , THOUGHT WE J FBSCK ■' ENGINE PACE ALONG 1 ' COULD SO OUT C

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

SALESMAN SAM

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE UNTAMED

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The warriors, at first dismayed at the death bf their laeder, were now worked to a frenzy bf rage and a determination to be avenged. Above the roar of the motor, Tarzan /shouted a few swd3 of tnstractlpn Mo Olga’s Aar, 4 *

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

As the girl grasped the significance of his words she paled, but her lips set In a hard line. Her eyes shone with a sudden fire of determination as she dove at the savages with throttle wide

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

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Usanga’s men had no time to escape. The plane struck among them and mowed through them, a veritable juggernaut of destruction. When it came to rest at the edge of the forest the apeman leaped quickly to the ground and ran toward the young lieutenant." "*'

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

And as he went he glanced at the spot where the warriors had stood, ready to defend himself if necessary, but there was none there to oppose him. Dead and dying they lay strewn for fifty feet along the turf. By the time the ape-man had frefd the Englishman the girl had joined them.

PAGE 21

—By Williams

—By Blossei:

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin