The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1933-06-03
DARLING FOOL e. : .::z

! But what" demanded Charles
with some Impotence, has all this
to do with me?" He looked rather
/ ostentatiously at the watch he had
been lingering for a moment.
Il thought I'd like you TO know
how matters stood" the girl told
him glbly. Il didn't want you to
believe I'd done any poaching.
Someone told me you'd said"
Il never talk about women" Eus-
/ tace said, a note of harshness COM
I ing into his voice. L leave that to
their own sex. You must excuse me
now. I'm overdue at my uncle's."
! He was Tuning as he took his hat
and coat from the maid at the front
| door. The girl was a fool. There
were no two ways about it.
What did she expect to gain by
talking about Monnie to him? Was
she really, as Kay believed, such an
enemy to Monnie that she would
deliberately try to undermine her
with Charles, after having stolen
Dan from under her nose?
Or was it a bit more complex
was Sandra such an egoist that she
wished every one, even Charles Eus-
tace who knew her so casually, to
! think well Of her? However it was,
she was a nasty little cat, and he
sincerely disliked her.
He walked off into the autumn
night, frowning. Why hadn't he
told her exactly what he thought of
her, he asked himself.
/ She hated MOnnie - that much
was plain. How had she dared to
| speak Of her in that tone to him?
Charles acknowledged with a
pang, that MOnica's absence cost
him a great deal. He was missing
her more than he would have be-
lieved possible year ago. She was
| so sweet.
That was it - so everlastingly
sweet and clean and desirable! She
/ made all these other girls, with
their poses and affectations ana
WEAKNESSES, look drab and uninter-
esting.
Monnie-he admitted it to himself
at last-had come to be the core
and center of his life. He loved her
and she was in love with another
man. There was nothing he could
do about it.
Unconsciously, he groaned to
himself Nothing he could do, he
repeated, except to stand by and be
her friend if she needed one. He
rather thought she would.
THE party of which Sandra had
= spoken was barn dance at the
summer place Of the Bliss, some
fifteen miles out on the river road
The great studio barn was heaped
for the occasion, with sheaVes and
decorated with pumpkins, corn
stalks, russell leaves and gourds.
Charles, bored with the idea of
assembling a special costume for the
affair, knotted a bandana over his
cracking shirt front and lounged
on the sidelines, watching the mer-
riment.
Geraldine Cardigan, looking rath-
er prettier than usual in a fresh
blue gingham, Whirled by in the
arms Of one of the Payne boys and
waved to him. He saw Dan dancing
with Sandra and looked away.
There was no doubt about it, the
! girl was attractive in a feline sort
of way. Dan, he observed, was rath-
err the worse for wear. He had been
stopping at the punch bowl in the
corner bit too often, and his step
was slightly unsteady.
Sandra. seemed to be in her ele-
ment She didn't, Charles thought,
drink at all, but she was gayer than
those who did. Her thrilling laugh
ter sounded often. Her full-skirted
froCk Of yellow stuff, billowing
about her, was the merest burlesque
of a milkmaid's costume. A milk
maid from the Rue de la Paix.
Good looldn' girl" Charles
turned to find Lance Waterman,
one Of his cousins, at his elbow
Charles grunted.
Hear they're maxim a go of it,
Lance indicated Dan, who was
weaving in and out in the intrica-
cieS of the dance.
Il believe they are"
Ito Be Continued