Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 147, Indianapolis, Marion County, 30 October 1933 — Page 15

OCT. 30, 1933_

3ctCfOftm gfuxdhfuvzt Raymond me.

BEGIN HERE TODAY JOAN WARING, cretty Memphis fir!, rfpd 808 V.EPTON, ton of a milliontire m;>! .n Memphis and fail in lcve. They become estranged through the trhemir.g of BARBARA COURTNEY, who i* trying to win Bio tor herself. PAT WARING. Joan's younger sister, i in an automobile accident in which JERRY FORRESTER, her escort, 1* killed Heartbroken. Pat runs away to New Yor* Joan follows ar.d begins a search for Pat and also a search for a job She !• engag'd as a masked *tner at a night club. Handsome BARNEY BLAKE, the owner, proves a steadfast Joan finds Pat, very ill. During Pat's convalescence. Joan and Barney are drawn closer together. Joan, believing Bob is lost to her. promises to marry Barney. Pat becomes Barney s secretary and soon he realizes that it is Pat he loves Instead of Joan Nevertheless the wedding plans go on. because Pat Insists that Joan must not be hurt. , _ Joan wakes one night to hear Pat aobbing bitterly NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 'Continued) “But we have General Forrest’s statue,” Pat flashed back. “You should see It when it’s covered with snow!” Barney laughed ayid turned to look at her. The sober eyes, the droop of her lips, belied the gay note in her voice and drove him to sudden recklessness. His arm went about her. “I’m only human,” Barney said. “I want the woman I love!” “We’ve got to go through with It,” Pat said. "I can't marry you. Barney.” “You dont really love me then.” “You'd hate me some day If we hurt Joan like that.” Late that night Joan was awakened by the sound of sobbing. Deep, tearing sobs. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT JOAN sat down on the edge of Pat’s bed. “Pat, darling,” she said, “what are you crying about?” She threw an arm about the other girl. Like a child, Pat pillowed her head against Joan’s arm. “Silly of me to cry,” Pat whispered brokenly, “when there’s no reason.” “But there must be a reason. Please tell me, dear!” Could Pat be grieving about Jerry Forrester? No, that did not seem likely. Pat had seemed perfectly happy for weeks. And it was just as unlikely that Pat was homesick. She adored the excitement of New York. She was never tired or bored. Suddenly Joan believed she understood. It must be that Pat was in love. How blind she had been not to understand! All at once Joan saw that Pat had changed. She was more subdued now. There was a becoming reserve about her. “Who is he?” Joan asked. There was a moment of silence. Joan felt Pat’s arm grow tense against her own. Then came Pat’s usual cheerful voice, “Now, won't you listen to Mrs. Detective!” “Pat, dear, forgive me for saying this, but I hate to think you might seriously care for Vance. I've thought from the first that he is Jerry's type. I'm sorry if I’ve hurt you.” “Don’t worry,” Pat said. “I’m using my head now. I have to!” Then i.t was Vance. Joan was amazed at the revelation in the grim young voice. How selfish she had been. So absorbed in her own unhappiness she had failed to remember that others had problems, too. She had known of course that Pat was seeing a good deal of Vance Nicholas, but it had never occurred to her that Pat's _ interest was so deep. “Pat," Joan said slowly, “I can't quite believe it. Os course, he’s good looking—” "Well, if you had had eyes you would have noticed that I was giving him all my time.” “I did notice, but I didn't think it meant anything.” “No use worrying, Joan. Guess I’ve got another case of puppy love, as mother would call it. I'll get over it, I suppose, but it's painful while it lasts—like mumps and measles.” a a a JOAN sighed. If she and Pat were only at home tonight! Nothing about this new life seemed real. Memories of those weeks at home, memories of Bob seemed a hundred times more genuine. Unconsciously, Joan had hoarded every memory, every gesture of Bob's. She could still see the steadiness of his eyes, the little trick he had of drawing his brows together, a frown that was not frowning at all—just concentration, the ominous set to his chin when he was angry and the teasing smile which revealed his firm, white teeth. She must not allow herself to think of him. This absorption was

- THIS CURIOUS WORLD -

xJt&UO fens ANTONIO STRADIVARI, &E\ FAMOUS VIOLIN MAKER., \.g£, (T \V >.3 f| OIED ALMOST 200 \>sS ■ J VEARS AGO, BUT THE • > QUALITY OF THE VARNISH USED ON HIS VIOLINS * ' HAS NEVER BEEN —y STRADIVARI aw (Xirr^i GOT ABOUT S2O EACH ? Yt£M & W J ' for his instruments... WL * ALMOST PRICELESS. V Ajjb* " *GflßHiSffiS, ( 3 ~lrj the MAN WHO named thousands 3T" ' 3 /dL OF PLANTS ANO ANIMALS, WAS, HIMSELF, A MAN OF MANY NAMES/ —f 'f t CA/OA A/ZV/VIF, CAGCXOS UMMAEUS SMQLANDCA, I CAAL VOV l/ASA/E AND WILU ij# Vl? CA/OA L//V/VAEUS WERE RO£>£■ _ USED AS SIGNATURES AT IS THE ffe VARIOUS TIMES. HIS FATHER'S FAVORITE / NAME WAS A*LS WVGEMAASSOH. WILD FLOWER. OF THE UNITED STATES... >=t ■ ■ i ■ ■ = ACCORDING TO STRAW VOTE TAKEN BV J 4f<* >, V AMERICAN NATURE ASSOCIATION. 1929. t mi rr >l> smKt. me. 10-JO STRADIVARI knew little about the principles of acoustics, but he was an excellent carpenter. He used choice wood in his violins, made perfect-fitting joints and topped off the expert workmanship with an application of his famous varnish. NEXT—What country had a rain of oranges?

shutting out every one. Even Pat. And Barney, too. Barney had seemed troubled and preoccupied lately. He had ceased to question her about the date for their wedding. Perhaps he had been hurt by her lack of enthusiasm. Pat said In a quiet voice; “Joan, when are you and Barney going to be married?” Joan’s heart thumping, her mind veering frantically away from the decision again. “I don’t know. Why?” And then Pat's sober voice. “Well, I think you ought to set a definite date.” So Pat had noticed that Barney was troubled. After a long moment Joan said slowly, “Yes, I guess we should. We’ll make it soon, Pat. And announce it later. I don’t want a lot of fuss and excitement. You know' how popular Barney is. We’ll just walk off some day and be married.” Pat was laughing queerly. “I was just thinking,” she said, “that my last chance his gone to be maid of honor and walk down the aisle with you—and Barney.” Lying In the darkness, Joan battled with herself and won. She would put aside the dream existence in which only Bob was real. She would think of practical things—home, companionship, protection, “I'm going shopping this afternoon,” she told Pat at noon next day. “Ask Barney to let you off early. I want you to come with me.” “You want me to help!” “Os course, Pat. Don’t you want to?” “I only meant I’d be selecting things I like, Joan—” a a it THEY spent the early part of the afternoon buying lingerie—lovely, lacy, frilly things, piled In lavish heaps on the counter before them. The saleswoman lifted a negligee from a hanger. “This is one of the prettiest we have,” she said. It was an exquisite shade of blue artfully cut with lines that were demure, yet with a touch of sophistication. Soft, creamy lace added richness to the satin. “Like it, Pat?” asked Joan. “It's a dream.” The saleswoman held the negligee up against Pat’s shoulders. “It makes your blue eyes bluer,” she smiled. “This shade would not Jje quite so good for you,” she said to Joan, “because your eyes are darker.” “But it’s for Joan!” exclaimed Pat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were—” the saleswoman broke off in confusion. Joan smiled. The woman thought Pat was selecting her own trousseau. No wonder! Joan knew that her own expression was far from bride-like. “I’ll take it.” Joan said. “But Joan!” Pat protested. “It isn’t your color.” “It will do well enough,” Joan said. “Well,” said Pat. “when it comes to clothes, you hold the record for enthusiasm.' It was that way with everything. Whatever Pat admired Joan purchased. “Anyone would think we were buying my trousseau,” Pat said on the way home. A number of packages had arrived before they reached the apartment and were neatly stacked on the floor of the living room, mute evidence of the busy afternoon. Joan gathered them up and carried them into the bedroom, dropping* them on the window seat. “Aren’t you going to unwrap them?” “Not tonight,” said Joan. a a a PAT thought Joan looked tired, and Joan, meeting Pat’s worvdering eyes, thought her sistei looked weary, it really was much too soon after Pat’s illness for her to be on her feet all afternoon. “I'll finish the shopping tomorrow," Joan said. “I'm afraid this afternoon was too much for you. There's not much more to get. I’ll need another evening dress and a traveling outfit.” “Oh." said Pat. “You'll be going away?” "Os course,” said Joan, smiling. "Barney hasn’t said anything about it recently, but he used to be talking all the time about the cruise we were to take. Some place in the tropics. It’s a cruise he thinks is just perfect.” "Oh,” said Pat. Her voice held a hollow note. (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

ARE BEIUG MADE OVERNIGHT. NO LESS THAN 193 PROSPECTORS NETS i 10,000 A TRIP, AND HAVE STRUCK IT RICH, AMD TO PAN #3OO WORTH OF GOLD A DAV AN AIRPLANE PMS FOR tTSELF VIS COMMONPLACE. CLAIMS ARE SELLING FROM #SOO TO # IN THREE DAY$t

ALLEY OOP

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN THE APE MAN

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Screaming, helpless with fright, Jean dropped through the air and was caught in the hairy arms of a huge ape waiting on the ground. Before she could get her breath, another ape seized her and hurried her, struggling away. She tripped and stumbled along, dragged roughly by the creature.

TURN TO PAGE 2 FOR “HOT” NEWS ABOUT OUR E. O. M. Sale Tuesday-Downstairs at Ayres

THE TNDTANATOLTS TIMES

A swarm of apes, all ages and sizes, chattered and raced along above and about her. She had no idea what had caused this sudden excitement. Impatient at her slow progress, for the girl resisted all efforts to keep up with her hairy companions, a huge bull-ape grabbed her.

—By Ah'ern

OUT OUR WAY

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/fo>NE MAN, FINOING NO GOLD, SELLS HIS \f. 1 iX\ W CABIN, FOOD AND MINING OCJTF'T— AMD HAS ENOUGH MONEY TO PAY OFF THE MORTGAGE K I . ON HIS HOME, 80V A WEVJ CAR, AND GET _ /Another luckless prospector makes A T\kM CHOPPING WOOD FOR HIS

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Swinging the girl over his shoulder he leaped for the tree branches, climbing higher and higher but ever onward. From a topmost branch the ape flung her to another tree where she was caught deftly by one of his companions who repeated the process of speeding her on.

—By; Edgar Rice Burroughs

Traveling thus, for what seemed ages to the terror-stricken girl, she was borne westward by the excited simians. . . . Tarzan. lying on the rock shelf, weakly moved his head. Half-conscious, he dimly heard the cries of apes, coming closer and closer.

PAGE 15

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By, Hamlin

—By Martin