Indianapolis Times, Volume 48, Number 35, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 April 1936 — Page 21

'APRIL 21,193(5.

Today's Short Story CONNECTICUT SUMMER By Maude Williamson

IT was as dramatic a scene, perhaps. as a playright might concoct. But you never would have guessed it from Virginia's composed, quiet ordinary little face. She sat across from her cousin Rennie, and seemed to be enjoying a club sandwich. “After all, darling, there’s no use ignoring the inevitable,” Rennie was saying. “Neither of us wanted to hurt you . . . and poor Bart is as bewildered as a child. But what can anybody do?” Virginia sawed through three layers of toast, allowed her breathtakingly beautiful cousn to answer her own question . . . "Men are so—so stupid, in a case like this. But I just couldn't let Bart fall in love with me—without telling you. It's positively absurd the way he stares at me— modesty was not one of Rennie’s n. „jor virtues, “as though he’d never get enough of seeing me. Yet he won’t come right out and say so.” “He doesn't have to,” Virginia said, and sipped her tea. “Well, I don't feel right about it,” Rennie argued softly. “You’ve been pretty swell to me . . . taking me in when I came from Petersburg and all. Even if you have a good job! You're wonderful, as I said to Bart ... even if you are only as big as a minute!” tt tt tt VIRGINIA considered that. “I love New York," Rennie went on. “Folks up here are so—so sort of frank. I mean there’s more—well, freedom for one thing.” “Which leads us back,” Virginia observed, “to you and—” the name stuck in her throat, “Bart.” “It's kind of hard to explain, darling. But I knew you’d rather know, considering we've been more like sisters than cousins. It would be foolish for us to try to deceive each other. “It's just as I told Bart—those nights you had to work, poor baby. You’re the smartest little minx that ever came from the South. You can add up figures like nobody’s business. and do more things . . . it's no wonder that old boss depends on you so!” "And machines,” she added, don't have to have rosebud mouths. Well, I’ve got to step on it . . . it's after 1:30. You going back to the apartment?” Rennie hesitated. “I ought to get a wave, I suppose. My hair’s a perfect sight.”

VIRGINIA paid the check. “Perfect," she echoed. “Well, see you about 5:30.” He face was on fire, going back to the office. The afternoon was fourteen centuries long. Even a competent machine can go haywire, have its speed knocked into a cocked hat, when upon the paper cofnronting you instead of long lines of figures—there dances a girl with sunbeam hair, and the image of a man you thought was yours. A man named Barton Weymeyer. There was no point in telling herself it wasn’t true. She knew it was. Bart was already head over heels in love. Men were so stupid in cases of this sort, Rennie had also said. And Rennie surely ought to know! Virginia frowned at the paper before her. Decided. Just like that. She had no intention of losing her fiance without a struggle—which she knew was exactly what Rennie expected her to do. No thank you . . . Noble sacrifice might be all right, in the movies . . . but if you loved a rnan who didn’t know whether he loved you or not, you'd be a ninny to let the first beautiful siren who happened along walk off with him. Not Virginia. an n SHE had to work fast, after the office closed. She phoned Rennie to “go ahead and have dniner." Oh yes, there was plenty in the ice box. in case Bart should drop by. They were not to worry about her; she would be home by 9. And home by 9 she was. Anew woman . . . Her silky hair, which always had been too fine to do much with, was still a bit damp. But another minute under a dryer would have been suicide. Her neck felt cold; naked somehow. After you've worn long hair all your 20 years, it is something of a shock to face the night suddenly shorn—and uncomfortably damp. In the taxi, turning I7th-st, she pulled off one glove. “All these nails need is to drip crimson,” she thought with a grin. man SHE stopped in the lower hall of the brown stone house, added more lipstick and adjusted her smart new hat. A steady look into a mirror helped. The person who looked back at her was anew woman. Whether you liked it or not, you had to admit it was different. And, logically, if the old Virginia had not been exciting enough to

hold Bart—well, why not give this new one a chance? Half way upstairs, her heart missed a beat. Suppose Bart should take one look at her—and burst out laughing? But Bart did not burst out laughing. He did not even smile. For the simple reason the apartment was empty. No Bart. No Rennie. Virginia, like a mechanical doll, stood transfixed in the doorway. She stared at the cluttered gateleg table, mute testimony of a charming dinner shared by two. She gathered up some magazines, which had been left on the floor; strode angrily into her bedroom, and was amazed to find none of Rennie’s clothes strewn about the place. She slammed a dresser drawer closed—and discovered the note Rennie had so thoughtfully left for her. Grimly she hung on to the note: Dear Ginny. Don’t think I am ungrateful, doing it this way. But I couldn't face you tonight. As soon as I can, I will write. Thanks—for everything. RENNIE.

T7TRGINIA took a long breath. ▼ “So,” she said aloud, as though any voice would help . .. “So we went off and got married and poor little Ginny, the great big ninny, could stay home and wash the dishes . . .” It was not a noble sentiment. Had Bart Weymeyer jumped out from behind a chair, Ginny would have been ashamed of herself. But Bart did not jump out at her. The room seemed suddenly a tomb. Her eyes were full of ashamed tears, her chest hurt like a sore toe. but she still could see. That is, when sh n looked in the bedroom mirror. She almost screamed . . . An absurd new face—with its shredded wheat eyes—moped back at her. “I look a dunce,” she sniffled. “I am a dunce. No wonder I lost him . . . And I don't care if I did! I wouldn’t want a man who couldn't be trusted three evenings with another woman . . . Just because her lashes are long!” The word was a bombshell. The beginning of a reconstruction period. For half an hour, Virginia worked like a dynamo, yanking off silky lashes, scrubbing her small face until it shone, brushing what little remained of her hair until it stood—waveless now—in righteous indignation upon the top of an unbowed head . She dabbed cold cream all over her face. The crimson nails dissolved in a cleansing tissue. Then she felt better.

SHE was through with beauty; through with lov£. She had a good job. . . . Well, she would keep it. Right now she would out the garbage pail outside the door, so the janitor could get It, and then she would go to bed. But, alas, she reckoned without a breeze. Scarcely had she stepped into the hall than—Zwaam. ... A door banged shut behind her! Whirling around, she clutched at the old woolen bathrobe she wore. Yes, it was her door, definitely closed and locked. She swallow'ed hard, thought fast. The janitor. ... He would have a pass key. Sneaking downstairs, she felt like a burglar. It was like a bad dream, climaxed by silence in answer to her knock on the janitor’s door. “Oh, what shall I do?” she half sobbed. . . . And scurried back to the stairs. Bart found her on the second landing. Crept "ight up on her, you might say. And there wasn’t any place Ginny could hide. . . . or die. She heard him repeating her name, but she kept right on running. He had her shoulders in a tight grip now, staring into a small, frightened, greasy face. “What goes on here? Locked yourself out?” nun GINNY said, “Ye-es. And your— my other key. If ” Bart grinned and miraculously produced a key. “Oh,” he said. What woman could have stood that? Ginny didn't who saw her cry . . . “Go on back to her. I’m— I don't want company!” Bart proceeded to wipe her face, grease and tears alike, with the handkerchief from his breast pocket. “A fine way for a hostess to talk . . . Especially after I was kind enough to take your cousin to the station.” Virginia's mouth popped open, but she couldn’t say a thing. “Sure.” Bart went on. “She might have got kidnaped on the way. It’s different in Petersburg, she tells me." “Has she—gone home?” In the living room, Ginny dropped in a chair. “Has she gone—to stay?" “Oh. she might come back sometime.” Bart laughed, “to visit us in the country.” He winked. “Be nice, won’t it? I'll bet she would love Connecticut. ... In Summer, honey.” 1 THE END

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

GUN BATTLE WITH MAGLEW BRINGS FAME TO LULU BELLE,THE PETTICOAT COP. A NEWSPAPERMAN COMES ALL THE WAV FROM JTO WASTE. —, EL PASO TO GET HER PICTURE. T y——7 THAT 5 THE STUFF, N, J ( S, RoiS^MAIRI^ANpS.i mk INVITATION TD 15ULLOOO STEERS

ALLEY OOP

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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TARZAN AND THE LEOPARD MEN

. ____-——^ U, . . >IU , fer~m v 'gV^iciTE^'ilnV

Bending over the fallen black tribesman, Tarzan beheld these mysterious claw marks of which he had heard —bloody furrows at the throat of the hapless warrior—the sign of the Taloned Death! For a long time he gazed in deepest perplexity at the still, lifeless form.

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

True, the marks seemed the marks of a claw, though sharper than the claw of any beast he knew. He looked about him for the footprints of an animal. He saw many footprints—of the lion, the leopard and the panther, and of the lesser beasts of the jungle.

With Major Hoople

OUT OUR WAY

/ MEV! WHERE'S \ TWev'RE GETTIN' \ YEH-PICK THEIR FLOWER^I YOUR CMC \ MINE BACK WITH \ MUSHROOMS, BERRIES— | V PRIDE ? TAKIN' \ ' A VENGEANCE. SWIPE THEIR APPLES— I THAT MUD INTO \ LOOK IT 'ER FLY. HUNT THEIR RABBITS Y/\ OUR FAIR errv/ , VOU CANT EXPECT AN' QUAIL-BUST THEIR give 'EM BACK j \ MUCH OF A GUV, FENCES—ENJOY THEIR vVAiTt- : iK> TH EIR MUD. y \ WITH NO PRIDE SCENERY—BUT, BE SURE Vi \IN HtS COMMUNITY / AN' KICK THEiR MUD BACK Y IN THEIR FACES/WE MUST YA \ p ROTECT OUR COMMUNOy

T?HE MAYOR PRESENTS HER WITH A ? WHEE/ HOW’S MILES PER HOUR/1 BET U NEW CAR. /Aingy kc t rOMP on? THIS FER SPEED?CROOKS'LL OUTRUN US, )N J gY HEA SERV , CEi , NC T M Bgc u 8 PAT

—By Hamlin OOP’s GOTCHER CROWN * "1 f HOTZIGGITY ZIG AM' YIDDLTY YEE f \ BIS THIS HOT NEWS TO OL' FOO7EE/ / r NEVER THOUGHT I D SEE TH' DAY ) . WHEN A BREAK LIKE THIS J COME MY WAY/ \ . ■WMk

—ny martin 1 HE VJ/Vb AU WEU- STWJL. " STAYING ON ONE. OF THE \S\_NMOS, SORT OF PERSON DOVCC SEE UP UVdE A AND HE SANO THERE ANY REASON MORSES GEORY WERE EEGEtHOS WHY YOU v GAY.ORE ABOUT AYE SHOULD GET HgT V 7- 7J 'VHF- \SYAMOS AYOV>G PANACKY ( OH! } J THE COAST, _} K3>OUT TUlfr

His nostrils dilated, to catch some scent which might prove a clue. But the odor of many beasts and of men came to him, for the warrior had been slain on a game trail which tunneled the jungle as a highway for the dwellers of the forest, both men and beasts.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

To Tarzan of the Apes, mighty Lord of the Jungle, death was no stranger. He had beheld Its grim countenance in many forms. Also he had fathomed many mysteries of the primitive, forgotten wilderness. But he stood baffled now in the face of the graceless Taloned Death!

.COMIC PAG3

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Hamlin

—By Martin