The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1931-06-29
1t would not be easy to forget Van
Robard. That Lame knew
CHAPTER FIVE

AZ WNuO uOb Dc easy 70 lOIBek Van
Robard. That Lame knew
CHAPTER FIVE
II lane stood in the wings. Her
- mother just was coming off the
stage, rather triumphant after her
bout with those impudent lines from
Congreve.
Nerve they have-putting on this
stuff" fumed Elsie, settling a pan
cake hat on her curled wig. ITS
supposed to be awfully funny, but
I think it's terrible!"
Lame said innocently that some
OF the play had seemed amusing,
but that for the most part she
thought 1t was rather dull.
oh, you wouldn't know what it
was all about anyway" Thus Elsie,
in disgust. She flounced on and
Lame went around to the front to
her station in the box office.
The second act was nearly over.
There was only bare chance that
some latecomer might arrive, de-
manding tickets.
Lame crept through the dark
ened house to the tune of well-bred
laughter from the subscribers as
the bon mots were tossed over the
footlights.
The lobby, with its modernistic
zigzagS of silver on a sIate-blue
background, its astonishing mural
showing Gree among her swine,
made her catch her breath as usual.
1t was such a bold riot of color and
design.
She took her place demurely be-
hind the gilded bars and fell to
sorting stubs with an idle hand.
Lane was in a dream, remembering
the party of the night before, Van
Robard bending over her hand. His
dark eyes full on hers.
No, she had said he meant moth
Ing in her young life. But that was
far from the truth. She had thrilled
to the touch of him.
His voice had stirred her in an
odd, disturbing way. It wasn't so
much what he had said as what he
had left unsaid.
Muriel had cooed with q stabbjng
note under her sweetness, made a
killing, haven't your" Lame had
pretended not to know what she
meant.
She wanted to keep Murieps
friendship. Why, she was the only
young thing Lane knew in all the
length Of Long Island. And Lame
was lonely. She needed friends.
Mother-well, Of course, mother
was wonderful. But then she was
so fearful that Lane wouln't be
properly guarded, protected.
Lame wanted nfe-giddy, brim-
ming life. She said to herself that
maybe she wa sa bit tired Of pro-
lection. Not that she wasn't CRATE
full to Motherl On, mol
CHE was interrupted in her rev.
~ erie by a soft voice at the win
dow. Lame looked up to see a
strange man standing there, regard
ing her fixedly. A lean man with a
soft gray hat pulled well down over
his eyes.
TOO late for the fun?" he asked.
I really don't think it would be
worth your while coming in so
late" Lame told him. How about
tickets for tomorrow night?"
I've come all the way from
town. To do a review for The
Sphere" the lean man amplified.
Give me one in the rear, there's
a good girl. I can get some of it,
anyway"
you have credentials?" Lame
asked, grown up and important.
The lean young man looked family
amused. He pulled from his picket
a soiled and battered police card
which gave his name as Charles
Desmond.
AL right, Mr.. Desmond" Lame
punched blue ticket with due So
lemnity and handed it to him.
Then she locked up the cage, opened
the front door cautiously and showed
him to seat. Muriel was off dutk
tonight, SO Lame was doubling foNN
her.
Thanks" The young man set
tied down in a lazy posture. AS
Lame fled back she had an impress
sion of long legs, a shabby gray
suit which somehow suited the
rangy figure, the scent of Turkish
cigaretS.
Fresh, but rather NICE" she
commented to herself. Too bad
Muriel had missed him.
Muriel profeSsed to a "yen" for
newspaper men, thought them 80
frightfully romantic" Well, maybe
they were. Lame didn't know much
about them.
But she wondered how Muriel
could prefer any man to the ro-
manufacturing Van Robard, whose
dinner clothes fitted him as If he
had been poured into them, whose
gardenia, top hat and stick made
him a perfect picture of What the
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