The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1933-01-11
SPOTETGHTE5E:!sIsEI5ssE5==5


! Plenty" the girl assured him. In
stantly she was gone. The dark door
/ seemed TO swallow her. The car
moved slowly to the corner.
Dick had waited hardly five min
utes when Sheila-a different Sheila
appeared. In what seemed a very
short time she had changed amaz-
ingly. A smarter, more sophisticated
brush TO her hair. Pendulous ear
rings. swaying as she moved.
Brighter lips.
Her figure exquisite in an in
expensive evening gown that had
earned the adjective smooth" when
displayed to other roomers at Ma
Lowell's. How would that dress
compare with the gowns worn by
Stanley's debutante friends? Shiela
vaguely hoped the lights at the pent-
house would be softly fattering..
4 suppose you are one of our
best and hardest working little
play boys" she hazarded, as with a
deft motion Dick Stanley headed
the car across the park toward
Trevor Lanes apartment house.
He seemed surprised Il? Hard
| lyl I'm a hard worker-that is
sometimes 1 am. The difficulty is,
l do hard work which for the mo-
ment, at least, wins no acclaim or
results"
Song writer?"
He laughed mo. But you aren't
so far off. The fact is, I'm writing
a play. The great American play!
1 work afternoons and Sunday
mornings"
"A playl' Her eyes widened. But
you have money. I thought only
poor men wrote plays"
Starvation in a garnet, Ell?
Well, starvation in a penthouse
isn't much better. Trevor has the
money, you see. OF course, I'm not
starving, but if 1 existed on what
was truly mine-that is, what 1
earn-I probably would be.
My father gives me an allow
ance, rather grudgingly, because I'm
not following him in his business in
Fall River. Oldest son, you know.
He'll never forgive me, I suppose.
But and Dicks eyes shone-
IT want to writel Trevor was
lonely. He's my cousin, you know,
and he asked me to bunk with him.
Here I am"
Tell me about the play" Sheila
responded uncertainty. Poor boy
didn't he know that every one
wrote plays? The trick was to sell
them!
Dick laughed. "Oh, that! It's
still in the early stages. But I've
put in a lot Of thinking on it."
THEY entered the little gilt ele-
Il vator which bore them swiftly
to the top Of the apartment house
where Trevor Lane had his pent-
house. Kato, the Japanese boy, adj
mitted them.
Sounds of merTiment issued from
the living room. Some one, a pro-
fesslonal Sheila decided instantly.
was playing the piano. AS she
slipped off her wrap in the silken
bedroom, there was a burst of ap-
plause, a murmur of voices. Talk
ing, laughing, gaiety.
But even here SheiIa could sense
the difference between this party
and those to which she had most
frequently been invited, parties of
professional people. Here was
luxury. The air was scented rather
than laden with exquisite perfume.
Sllken women, eXquisitely coiffed
and groomed with SOFT modulated
voices. Girls from Dick Stanley's
world!
Here in the bright dressing table
light her gown looked shabby. Once
more Sheila told herself she should
not have come.
Ready" Dicks eager voice
sounded from outside and resoluteIy
Sheila turned from the discourage
ing reflection in the mirror.
Framed in this luxury, she looked
and felt badly dressed. obviously
she left the security of the dressing
room.
But there was no dubiousness in
the eyes of the young man who
waited for her Nothing but de-
| light, mingled with friendlinesS and
JOY at the sight of her.
TO Be COntinued.)