The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1930-07-14

his arms, she made no protest. His
eager lips found hers and his first
kiss awakened a reponse. Her own
arms crept about his neck, drew his
face closer to hers.
Nov. I'll never leave you," he
told her. Never! Do you under
stand?"
CHE nodded, granting an assent
y that it was beyond her power to
withhold. Eleanor was forgotten;
the fact that she had no right to
be in this mans arms waS forgot
ten: honor was forgotten. Every
thing was forgotten save the one
binding fact that they loved each
other.
All her resolutions amounted to
nothing; he had come back to her;
he believed her in spite of every
thing, and honor was a slight sac
rifce to be laid at the altar Of such
faith as his.
In the little recess by the bed the
telephone rang. She moved in his
arms and he laughingly relinquiShed
her.
III let you answer the phone"
he said, lust so that I'll have the
JOY of watching you walk to me
after it."
She opened the little recess and
picked up the receiver. Recollec-
ton. realization, and honor came
rushing back.
I'm at the Dennison, West
Eighth street. I'm ready to come
home. Will you come down at
once?"
Il will" said Cynthia.
She hung up the receiver and
turned to Dean. He held out his
arms.
Come" he ordered.
She shook her head; she hoped
he wouldn't notice how white she
was.
"Not-now." she stammered.
Comeback"
How soon?" he demanded. There
was the leniency of the victor to-
ward the vanquiShed in his voice
and manner.
AN hour" she said.
"And my wife bvill be here wait
ing for me9" he asked.
Your wife will be here" she an
swered.
without a WORD he turned and
left the room. She waited until she
was certain he was beyond hearing.
Then she rang up Tom SAWYER.
Eleanor Just telephoned me She
told me wneIe she was. I'll be right
over to get you"
Deans wife would be waiting for
him. but the woman he loved
would be-She wondered where.
CHE looked around the room. 1t
- had become home to her. the
only home she had known since
she had left Ohio. European pen
sions. the shabby apartment on
West Forty-eighth street, the cheap
boarding houses. the third-rate
hotels-theSe had been unhappy
makeshifts for home.
Not a thing in this room had any
permanency Of association. Hardly
more than a month ago she had
stepped into this house exactly as
a newborn babe comes into the
world.
For an infant its without clothing
of its own. without property. with
out recollections Of a past; an il
FAINT is even without a name. She
had to all intents and purposes
been naked: the clothing that she
wore was the property of Eleanor.
She was without any knowledge of
Eleanor'S past life. She had-or
rather could uSe-no name of her
own, but must answer to the name
that Eleanor had given her.
Yet in a few short weeks. despite
the eternal strain under which she
lived, she had come to accept the
things that surrounded her as mat
tiers of course.
But it IA not the luxury which
size was leaving behind that made
her nnger In the room. II was the
fact that the place itself had be-
come dear 10 her.
Yet she knew that had it been
a hoyel to which Dean had taken
her. that hovel would have been
as precious as this house. Only
twice had he entered this bedroom,
but if she were TO live in it alone
for the rest Of her life she would
feel his presence there.
The mere fact that he had looked
upon its furnishings made him a
part OF them. And if he could so
force his personality upon the
furnishings Of a room. how could
she ever hope 10 rid herself of re-
membrance Of him? Perhaps, after
all. the dainty room had nothing
to do with her h~esitancy. She
must De honest with herself. must
! real3 exactly what she was giving