Indianapolis Times, Volume 47, Number 259, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 January 1936 — Page 9

•TAN. 7, 1936

Os it It CfJJ zJtly. Move

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO (Continued) No, Dana thought, miserably, “He wouldn't want me back.” Because she had humiliated him by leaving him. And because, most of all, he was infatuated with Paula. But, this was a secret that would die with her. She'd never, if she lived to be a hundred, admit that she hadn't been able to hold her husband. It was dreadful thinking about living to be a hundred. All those years without Scott. Dana looked so crushed, such a woebegone, little figure that Aunt Ellen could scarcely bear to look at her. Tears stung her eyelids. She wondered if the poor child knew what she was about. It was a serious thing, leaving a husband. Giving i*4> a sweetheart. Aunt Ellen knew. Scott’s grandfather had been proud and had never asked her to reconsider, though he had loved her deeply. Nancy had decided: “Dana's weak. She couldn't stand being poor, so she pulled out." Mrs. Cameron was first, to break the circle. She got up. pulling her robe about her. “We ll all take cold sitting here,” she said firmly. “Dana looks dead on her feet. She must get some sleep.” Secretly she was girding her resources for battle. She said to herself, "The silly child is still in love ■with him. It's written all over her face. If he tries he might be able to persuade her to go back to him. But she'll stay here if I can keep her!” After breakfast Dana sat in the vicinity of the telephone, fully expecting it to ring. But the morning hours wore away and there was no call from Scott. He was showing more judgment, Mrs. Cameron thought, than she had expected. Maybe he, too, had decided it was impossible for them to make a success of their marriage. If that were so, the plan she had ir. mind cohld be speedily carried out. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE SCOTT awoke at noon to a full and complete realization of the catastrophic events of the night before. Within the last 12 hours a g'rl had tried to kill herself and him. And his wife had left him. Seven hours had elapsed and Dana had not telephoned. Scott picked up the crumpled note lying near his pillow. He must have gone to sleep with it in his hand. He read it again, grimly and bitterly. In the cold, reasoning light of day the words sounded worse than ithey had a few hours earlier. They jhad a calculating ring, “I’m going * while I can leave with some dig*Hity.” What did she mean by that? Was she ashamed of being poor and having to skimp and retrench when 811 her friends lived so differently? That must be what she meant. Wliat was really in her heart must jhave come out in that damned silly note. She had seized upon the pretext of his going out last night, and had rushed home to her grandmother. "Don't ask me to come back. Scott, because I don't want to.” He reread the words, his anger growing momentarily. Dana didn't want to come back to him. She had not written that note in an emotional outbreak, but coldly, calculatingly. Well, he wouldn’t ask

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her to come back. Not until she had suffered plenty for making him suffer as she had. Not until she had made some move toward reconciliation. All of their friends probablv knew by this time that Dana had Itft him. If they were pitying him they could keep their pity. He didn't want it. non THE telephone rang and,he raced for it, feeling a surge of pure relief. But it was not Dana's voice that came to to him: it wqs Miss Paine at the office, asking if he could come down immediately. There was work to be done, work that could not wait. Miss Paine tojd him as soon as he reached the office ..hat Dr. Osborne had called and wanted to see him. Scott found the older man sitting at his desk, his arm in a sling. Dr. Osborne said abruptly, “Stanley, I’m out for a while, as you can see. Slipped on some damn steps. This sprained arm is going to put me out of commission as far as operating is concerned for some time.” “I'm sorry to hear it, sir. When aid it happen?” “Early this morning. The worst of it is there’s a ticklish operation somebody’s got to perform." Scott sat down. A ticklish operation somebody had to perform. Dana had left him. She'd gone back to her grandmother after writing something nonsensical about dignity. He brought his wandering attention back to find the older man regarding him anxiously. "You're not looking so fit yourself, Stanley.” “I was out late last night. Had an emergency call.” “That's bad.” Dr. Osborne was tapping the edge of his mahoganydesk with a nervous hand. “You sea, Stanley, I had made up my mind to ask you to perform this operation for me.” Scott’s pulse leaped. It was the professional instinct, savoring opportunity and battle. “I'd be happy to do it.” “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Asa matter of fact, I have already recommended you to these people, who are perfectly willing to put the case in your hands. It's a ticklish job, though.” Scott asked quickly, “What’s the operation?” “A boy, fine young son of a friend of mine, shot himself accidentally while hunting. The bullet lodged. It’s within a fraction of the heart. A man who didn't know exactly what he was doing, and didn't work with the utmost pre-cision-well, you know, the bullet might just as well have knocked off the youngster.” “Where is the boy?" “They are bringing him by plane. If you feel you want to tackle it, go ahead. But if you have any doubt of your fitness today, be honest with me.” “I’ll do it,” Scott said. “I’m all right. Don’t worry.” That reservoir of vitality which could always be tapped for emergencies already was giving him new strength. Dr. Osborn, watching Scott, saw the somber, strained look drop from his face and the calm professional mask take its place. He nodded with satisfaction, “Go on out to St. Armand’s. The boy wall be there in half an hour.” a a a MISS PAINE related the story to an eager listener. “It was exciting, Edith. First about Dr. Os-

borne having the accident, and then the news that they were bringing the little fellow home in a plane. “And the most exciting thing of all was when Dr. Stanley walked in, white as a ghost. He looked as though he didn't know or care where he was going. I thought that if I ever saw a horrible hangover, he had it “I felt so sorry for him, having an opportunity like that and having to pass it up. But when he came out of Dr. Osborne’s office, he didn't look like the same man. His voice was steady and he said, ‘Get St. Armand's on the phone and tell them to get an operating room ready for an emergency.’ “ ‘lt's ready now,’ I told him. Dr. Osborne took care of that.’ “Then he dashed off. He still looked white and worried, but different, somehow.” a an THERE was the smell of ether in the spotless, white-walled room. Nurses moved swiftly, soundlessly. Grave eyes stared at Scott’s hands as he worked. There was that ugly bit of lead lodged in some fatty tissue. So close, so perilously close to that throbbing, pulsing oval. One slip of the knife, one fraction of an inch closer as his • instrument moved toward the deadly leaden bit, and it would be all over for the slim, blond-haired youngster whose life had been intrusted to Scott’s hands. The rest was simply a matter of tieing up the job. retracing steps with sure, steady fingers. It had been a long time, but it seemed only a matter of seconds now. They were wheeling the little chap away. The boy was going to be all right. Scott was, all at once, the center of a group, talking in the vibrant, but muted tones doctors use in an operating room. “It was a beautiful job, Stanley.” “One of the prettiest pieces of work I've ever seen.” Voices all around. Congratulating him. The admiring eyes of nurses, paying silent tribute to professional skill. And then the deep voice of Dr. Osborne. “I had to slip in on this, Scott. You measured up. Somehow, I knew you’d turn the trick.” a a a Dana was sure her heart had died that night Scott had gone to Paula's home and stayed there while she counted minutes by its heavy beating. Counted minutes that lengthened to hours. At four she had got up and dressed. Then she called a taxi and gave the driver her grandmother's address. Yes, her heart had died when Scott had flaunted his infatuation for Paula, leaving her alone that stormy night. Her heart had not come alive since; a month had passed and Scott had neither called her or tried'to see her. Lawyers might term what she had done “desertion,” but Dana never doubted that Scott knew she had left him because he had stayed at Paula’s all night. Any woman who had any self-respect would have done the same thing. And if Scott had had any explanation to offer he would have pleaded with her to come back to him. He hadn’t—which was proof that he didn't want her. Aunt Ellen entered her niece's loom. She said, “My dear, you aren't happy, isn’t there something that can be done about it?" "No, Aunt Ellen.” There was a sob in Dana’s voice. “Let me write to Scott,” her aunt pleaded. "No, no!” Dana's voice rose vehemently. Then she was sobbing in Aunt Ellen’s arms. When she quieted, she poured her troubles into the sympathetic ear. She told things she had vowed she would never tell any one, but telling them to one who was so dear and understanding and dependable was like whispering them to herself. -Dana knew without binding her to secrecy that Aunt Ellen would never break the confidence. And it was comforting to hear her gentle, sympathizing voice saying things ‘ Dana wanted so terribly to believe but couldn’t. “It wasn’t anything I did,” Dana insisted. “I loved Scott so much and hr: knew that. I didn't mind doing without all the silly things a lot of girls want. I didn't mind cooking and doing dishes. It was fun. Because no matter what went w-rong, Scott never complained. He didn't expect things of me. He helped a lot—not puttering around but really helping. And he worked so hard at the office ” Dana's voice broke. a a a “'TT'HEN why,” Aunt Ellen asked x bewildered, “why did you leave him?” “It was something outside all that. Something I suppose he couldn’t help.” Dana’s miserable eyes met her aunt’s. “You mean—a woman!” Aunt Ellen could scarcely say the word. It had a fearfully indelicate sound. “Yes,” Dana answered. ‘ You are sure?” Her aunt’s voice was shocked. "Yes. You see I was a sneak and checked up on him.” “But are you sure?” It was almost impossible for Aunt Ellen to accept this dreadful explanation, remembering the happy faces of her niece and Scott the day they married. Qnly a year ago—and here was Dana telling her about some other woman. “And then she went away,” Dana whispered. “About three days aft-er-after I found out about it she left town. It is all very mysterious.

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Leather Gives Right Accent to Tweed Apparel

BY GERTRUDE BAILEY LEATHER is the right accent for tweed. Remember this when you are selecting a gift f or the girl who is devoted to her Monroe tweed jacket, to her Harris tweed reefer and her Scotch leather brogues. Like the English woman, she has learned to buy her clothes as an investment. She wants the very best of English or Scotea tweeds and best tailoring possible. She enjoys wearing them as long as they hold together. Ten to one she feels the same way abouj leather. She knows that the best of sadddle leathers will scuff, while pigskin can take a lot of punishment. She knows that colored crocodiles, m bags, belts, shoes are handsome blended rather than matched to her town tweed. Any of the leather articles sketched on today's page would please her because they are tailored, they are smart and they will wear and wear. The suede gloves, classic pullons that the tailored woman insists upon when she is buying them herself, are to be found in many colors. The same style may be found in service suede,

BY GERTRUDE BAILEY EATHER is the right ac- / -J cent for tweed. Remember / lis when you are selecting a gift - j \ / >r the girl who is devoted to her - [onroe tweed jacket, to her Har- l f s tweed reefer and her Scotch 4 -v ' \ / ather brogues. m V Like the English woman, she . g M * \ ts learned to buy her clothes as I 1 • reeds and best tailoring possi- § m jp/ S \ e. She enjoys wearing them as £ m Wd I•V* ga ng as they hold together. i H W ? Ten to one she feels the same 1 h C ay abouu leather. She knows * W Jfc \ _____ lat the best of sadddle leathers m * jg| V CSS&S) ill scuff, while pigskin can take vL m \ mm WW' lot of punishment. She knows V., Jr lat colored crocodiles, m bags, n fml IS ;lts, shoes are handsome blended Wt Sm H fr ither than matched to her town WL lift r B Any of the leather articles ilk Jr :etched on today’s page would lease her because they are tai- ' red, they are smart and they ill wear and wear. The suede gloves, classic pull- ‘“V. is that the tailored woman in- r —- sts upon when she is buying Just because she is a rugged / J* idividualist in her choice of ma- 1 I * , C? iMmM} ;rials, does not mean that she 11. * j\ I Des not want ornament. Let it VJ''v.Qy' y M l fimrtinnal ac in iVio

in natural pigskin and in chamois. Just because she is a rugged individualist in her choice of materials, does not mean that she does not want ornament. Let it be functional, as in the polished wooden fob watch of a strange foreign make, or the modern faced wrist watch with a leather strap, or the large cigaret case completely covered with alligator, or the little box vanity covered in dark green suede.

Flapper Fanny Says REG. U. S. PAT. OFF. Most girls seem to think that the old adage says the lass shall be first.

She didn’t tell any one where she was going. Just disappeared, and hei apartment was closed. But of course I knew why she left. Maybe she thought I’d take the role of an avenging wife. Or maybe she just wanted to get nut of town until it all blew over.” Aunt Ellen had decided, “It was that Long girl then.” She was the one her sister had said Scott should have married in the first place. If he had. this child wouldn’t be sitting here looking like a little ghost. “My dear,” Aunt Ellen protested, “you can’t go on this way. You’ve been here a jnonth now, and you haven’t been out of the house. Don’t you think you could take a walk? Or go to a movie?” “I couldn’t go to a movie,” Dana said. “I couldn’t stand it.” Then, as she saw the troubled look on her aunt's face deepen, she said gallantly, “But I will go for a walk. I hate to face people, though I know it's silly. But it’s horrible to feel people are speculating about you, looking at you and wondering and saying ‘There’s Dana Stanley. Well, she and Scott havfc hit the rocks already.’ ” (To Be Continued.)

PARTY'S PROCEEDS TO HELP CHILDREN Proceeds from a card party and style show at 2 Tuesday, Jan. 14, in Wm. H. Block Cos. auditorium are to benefit the Shriners’ Hospital for Crippled Children. The party, sponsored by Tarum Court 14, Ladies’ Oriental Shrine of North America, is open to the public. Proceeds are to be used to supply braces and other orthopedic apparatus for children treated at the hospital. Mrs. W. D. Keenan, high priestess,

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has appointed Mrs. John D. Smith general chairman. Mrs. Smith is to be assisted by the following committee chairmen: Mrs. R. L. Craig, tickets; Mrs. S. O. Sharp, prizes; Miss Fern Craig, candy; Mrs. J. N. Parrott, door prizes; Mrs. O. Ray Albertson, special prizes; Mrs. L. D. 'Bibler, tallies; Mrs. Florence Swope, courtesy and Mrs. W. W. Watkins, broadcasting.

AID GROUP IS TO DISCUSS ACTIVITIES Spring activity of the Christamore Aid Society is to be the topic for discussion at a business meeting of the society Tuesday, Jan. 14. Mrs. R. Kirby Whyte is to entertain the group at her home. 115 E. Fall Creek-blvd. Mrs. Conrad Ruckelshaus is society president.

PAGE 9

Offended by Man’s Talk of Clothes oung Woman Is Advised to Analyze Herself Before Acting. Brin* your troubles to Jane Jordan, who will help on to a solution hr her answers in this column. Dear Jane Jordan—i have been going with a young man for four months and now he is beginning to assert his superiority by domineering. He even ridicules my clothes and tells me just what to wear and

not to wear. He is very much to brag and boast about what he pays for his clothes, but finds fault with everything i do. I was taught that It was vulgar and ignorant to brag or to make fun of other people's clothes. He really je goodhearted. but this

||S%bs'* £R ' mr &L -yJB

Jane Jordan

thing of trying to be important bores me to tears. Would you drop him or sit down and explain to him my disposition ana what he will have to do to change his ways? CURIOUS. Answer—ls the young man has other virtues to compensate for his offensive attitude toward the way you dress, surely it would be better to clear up the issue than to throw an otherwise satisfactory relationship overboard. Any other individual will present similar problems of adjustment, so you might as well learn to put part of your ego down for one good man as another. Maybe the man is right about your clothes. In your fury of resistance have you carefully considered his criticisms? Maybe your taste Isn't absolutely impeccable and could be improved by his suggestions. Perhaps your selections are too masculine and he would like to enjoy vicariously in your wardrobe the colors and materials which are excluded from his.

Evidently clothes mean a great deal in this man’s life, either as a means of self-expresion or a method of gaining personal prestige. No doubt both could be achieved more admirably in some other way, but he has chosen this way and it is important to him. No one brags without an underlying feeling of personal insecurity. Any strong feeling may be suspected of concealing its opposite. If you would interest yourself in tht man’s sartorial problems and compliment his clothes perhaps he would feel less necessity to call your attention to what he wears. The thing I hope you will look for is a very real underlying need that prompts your friend's behavior. Now, of course, if the man is just a cheap blow-hard, you don’t want him. If. after four months, you've found him to be empty of worthwhile qualities, let him go—but not until you’re sure that these childish defects are not just a surface irritation which can be corrected with profit to you both.