Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 142, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 October 1933 — Page 13

OCT. 24, 1933

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BEGIN HERE TODAV JOAN WARING pretty Memphis girl, and 808 WESTON, son of a New York millionaire, meet in Memphis ar.d fall lr. \rj-.f Th* romance progre-scs happily urtti. Joan and Bob are Invited to a how party Through the scheming of BARBARA COURTNEY, who IS trying to win Bob for herself, Joan and Bob become estranged „„ Meanwhile PAT WARING Joans younger Bis* # *r, 1* in an automobile acctder.t and JERRY FORRESTER, her escor- is killed. The fact that they had come from a road house and that Jfrry had been drinking appears in n*wspapera Bobs father reads about the arcident and asks Bob to give up Joan. Pat runs a* ay to New York. Joan follow* and begins a search for her sister and also for a job which will enable her to remain in New York She is engaged to sing a* a night club owned by BARNEY BLAKE, who proves a steadfast friend. . . , Pat is hired as a model in a large wholesale house She writes to her mother but does not give her address. At the close of working hours one afternoon she receives word to report to the manager’s office NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (Continued) THE first morning when Pat was introduced to her work as a model in the large wholesale house, a girl named Jane Johnson prophesied, ‘'You'll like wearing good clothes—and you'll get used to them.” One month later Pat knew what Jane meant. When she slipped carelessly into an exquisite evening gown of white lace with pink rosebuds on the bodice she enjoyed the touch of the fragile fabric, the artful lines, the flattering way in which the dress clung to her figure. Pat turned the price tag thoughtfully in her hand. Yes, it was easy to learn to like beautiful clothes. Jane, who had worked her way up to a supervisory position, put her head in the door. “There's a gang of buyers waiting to see those evening gowns. More speed, girls!” Laureen was modeling a green satin Vionnet. Jessie’s white chiffon was a copy of a Chanel. Ruth wore black velvet and Mabel, the other girl, a coral crepe. Pat, already dressed, stood watching the others. Lauren was grumbling, “This thing fits me like the paper on the wall. It's back to the orange juice diet for me, or I'll be out of a job! And how I hate orange juice!” Ruth said, “Never mind, honey. They say the Mae West figure's going to be the rage and then you can have all the steak dinners and French pastry you want.” “All right, Jessie,” Jane said from the door. Jessie, with one slender wrist crooked against her hip in the inimitable manner that was the envy and despair of some of the others, moved into the big room where the buyers were gathered. Mabel, looking like a glowing flame in the coral dress, was next. It was Mabel who whispered to Pat W'hen she returned, “The boss Is all a-twitter! Some of his best buyers are in there—old Fosdick from Indianapolis, Larry Brentford from Milwaukee and a man from Dallas. The rest are small fry who don't matter so much.” a a tt PAT, her golden curls caught back, looked young and graceful with the roses of her corsage matching color in her soft, curved lips. Slowly she entered the big room, paraded before the men and women buyers. As she moved over the thick carpet, past the large, comfortable chairs, she became conscious of the admiring gaze of one man. It made Pat nervous—the half smile on the lips of the stockilybuilt man. It was almost a deliberate stare. He was carefully dressed, his thinning hair brushed until every hair lay smoothly in place. He sat forward in his seat, one hand gripping his cane, devouring Pat with his eyes. She did not know why she disliked him so much or why she found his appraisal so disconcerting. After all, she was there to be looked at. She sighed with relief, however, when she was back in the dressing room. She had slipped into her street clothes and was tucking her curls under a white knitted hat when Jane came in. “They want you In the manager's office,” Jane said, adding kindly, “I’m sure It’s nothing to worry about.” "What in the world can the manager want with me?” Pat asked. jane did not answer and Pat opened the door. Her heart was beating nervously. Then she stifled her fears. What could there be to worry about? CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE IT was a little before 10 o'clock that evening when Lois Clayton, who shared the tiny apartment with Pat, heard the latch key in the hall door. Pat entered, her eyes shining queerly, her cheeks flushed. “Why, Pat!” Lois' voice was amazed. “What are you doing back so early?" “I walked out on the old duck,” Pat said. “Walked out on him?” Lois gasped. “Oh, Pat!” “That's what I said.” “You’ll probably be fired.” “I thought of that, too.” “Good heavens, Pat.” Lois said soberly, “couldn't you have stayed just an hour or so longer?" “No,” Pat said. “I couldn't. Not for s hundred jobs. He got fresh.” Her face flamed suddenly. “Oh. Lois, he tried to kiss me in the taxi! He called me ‘girlie,’ and thought I was stalling when I pulled away.” “The old sap!” said Lois. “But you don't find anew job every day.” Pat was silent. There was something she couldn't tell Lois. About the taxi stopping in front of a speakeasy. She couldn't say “Once I tried being a good sport. Lois.” because then she would have to explain about Jerry and the tragic climax to that night. Tonight had been an opportunity to Justify herself, though she had not analyzed it in that way. “I ‘couldn't have looked myself in the face if I'd gone to a place like that to save my job.” Pat thought. “What in the world did you do?” Lois queried. Pat laughed. “Well, when he stepped out of the taxi to the sidewalk I made up my mind I wouldn’t get out. I slammed the door and said to the driver, Drive on, please ” I think he was so astonished that he started the car without thinking. Thank goodness. I had enough to pay the taxi bill! I wish you could have eeen Mr. Brentford standing there with his mouth open, like a surprised old fish!” “Gosh, Pat. I'm afraid it will cost ypu your Job.r ,

ANYWAY.” Pat said. “I'm glad I did it.” She was slipping out of her clothes. In her sleeveless gown, her blond curls loosened, she sat on the edge of the bed. “What business had the manager to fix a date up for me, anyway?” “Why didn't you beg off, then? You might have said your fiance was in town. Or that you were sick.” “Tried it," Pat said grimly, “but it didn't work. I had a feeling something was up when I walked into that office and saw this old fellow waiting in the next room. So I said to Mr. Livingston. ‘I hope everything was all right this afternoon. If anything was wrong, you'll have to excuse me because I've been feeling ill all day.’ ” “I call that smooth,” Lois said. “Well, he just smiled, Louis, and said, ‘I didnt notice anything wrong. I thought you looked swell in the white evening dress. Mr. Brentford, one of our best customers, thought so, too.” Then he went on about how he was sure I was going to prove myself a valuable employe and before long he'd have to speak to the cashier about a little raise. And some more hokum about expecting cooperation from all the employes and how we were all like one big family. Then he said this Brentford wanted to run out for dinner and a show and he knew he could count on me to entertain such a good friend of the firm for a few hours. “Smooth, too,” said Lois. “And then he dated you up with the old gink. Maybe this Brentford’s a good scout, after all, and won’t tell. Maybe he’s so vain he’ll be ashamed to tell your boss he didn’t make a hit with you.” “Maybe.” But Pat's tone was doubtful. Nothing unsual happened during the next morning. Pat became more hopeful as the customary routine progressed. Lunch hour came and still there were no signs of a storm brewing. But a little later Jane drew Pat to one side. The look on her face warned that trouble was on the way. B tt St ”W/ HAT lia PP ened last night?” ’ * Jane asked. “I couldn't go through with it.” “There wasn’t any reason for you to get the jitters. Lots of girls have let Tony Brentford pay for a swell dinner for them. When he found they weren’t ambitious, that was all there was to it. All Mr. Livingston expects is tact, so there’ll be no hard feelings.” “Break the bad news," Pat said abruptly. “Well, you cost the firm a nice order. And nice orders aren't picked up very often these days. Brentford canceled everything. You haven’t a chance to stay. Anything in sight?” Pat shook her head. “Only Mulligan stews for awhile.” “I’m sorry, Pat.” Admiration and pity were mingled in Jane’s eyes. “Mr. Livingston told me to ask you to stop by the cashier's desk this afternoon.” "Thanks, Jane.” Well, that was that. At 5, Pat got her envelope. Inside were several crisp bills, her salary to date, and a brief memorandum attached: “After today your services will not be needed.” Pat read it with a wry little smile about her mouth, reached up to pull her small hat to a more nonchalant angle, and bravely walked out of the building. She would have to find a cheaper place to live at once. Lois could get someone else to come in to the apartment. And Pat would have to find a job. She located the cheaper place without trouble—a fairly large room with a’ cubby-hole and gas plate where she could prepare her meals. The two windows would be a comfort and compensate for many other defects and deficiencies, Pat decided. There were faded curtains at the windows, a faded nig and mismatched furniture, but the place was clean and it was at the rear of the building. That was desirable because it made it quieter. ana "XTOT nervous, are you Joan?” IN Backstage, Barney was smiling down at her. “Just a little,” Joan confessed. “No need. You'll go over all right.” He was smiling, pleased with her appearance, confident, already savoring success. He reached forward. caught her hands in his and patted them reassuringly. They were Barney and Joan now. In the week, acquaintance had ripened into an almost unbelievable friendship. Barney had taken the initiative, saying simply, “I'm going to call you Joan. It would be foolish to call you Miss Waring when I feel I know you better than any girl I’ve ever met.” And then with the same directness, he had said, “You’ll call me Barney, too. won’t you?" Joan, to her amazement, had found it surprisingly easy. Barney was simply irresistible. He was genuine, Joan realized. And fineness and honesty were coupled with a strong, personal magnetism. She was more attracted to him than she had been to any man in a long while. There had been several dinners at a charming English type inn. tucked away along the country-side, not far from Greenwich. And two ! long drives through green hills with sudden glimpses of blue lakes. They had been friends from the beginning, and Joan knew she was happier because of it. Barney liked her. She liked him. That was enough. His interest, his devotion, if she were honest, was spicing the days for her and had become an anchor in the great city where she had been so unutterably lonely. She had told Barney about Pat—little, lost Pat, who was working as a model here in New York, with some queer idea of working out her own problems unaided. She had told him of the tragic accident that had sent Pat. heartsick and bewildered, out into the world. B tt B “'T'HE kid has spirit,” Barney had X said sympathicallv. He had accompanied Joan to a model exj change to see if they could find any trace of Pat. There was always the chance, Barney said, that Pat might be using an assumed name. But Joan thought not. She was sure it would never occur to matter-of-fact Pat to resort to such tricks. (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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ALLEY OOP

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE APE MAN

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The wounded ape-man moved now with one hand at his head as he grew more and dizzy. When he disappeared among the darkening shadows, after a few seconds a pair of hyenas came on the scene, sniffed the fresh blood, threw up their heads and followed him, laughing.

Ayres Downstairs Store Has Fashions £or the Larger Woman Who Says She Is “Hard to Fit”.. • Turn NOW to Page 2!

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

In the distance, Tarzan was trying to swing himself up into another tree. He was not able to. He staggered off on the ground through the jungle. Over the yells of the laughing hyenas tracking him, came a lion's roar. Tarzan heard it, paused, quickly drew his knife and staggered on again.

—By Ahem

OUT OUR WAY

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SAY,OOe,6ON\T-\ II now.now-tgw Tgh . im N \y\ Wll/jW BET YOU o\o 6VAO T'GEE YER EINAVLY !x • THAT ON J US\n’ YER

Behind him still followed the cowardly hyenas, making the air hideous with their horrid laughter. And through the underbrush, near them, a huge lion made his way toward the ape-nan. Tarzan halted, standing weakly but defiant, his back against a tree.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Not so very far away, Tantor, the elephant, rocked back and forth, contentedly as he fed in the jungle. Suddenly came the first roar of the lion tracking Tarzan. The elephant stopped feeding to listen. Then came that weird, cry from the ape-man; the call of a trapped animal asking help.

PAGE 13

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Hamlin

—By Martin