anaheim-gazette 1935-01-03

Anaheim, Calif., Jan. 3, 1935 LOVE LIGHTLY By MARGARET E. SANGSTER TWELFTH INSTALLMENT SYNOPSIS ... Ellen Church 17 years old, finds herself alone in the world with her artist mother's last warning ringing in her ears, to "love lightly." Of the world she knew little. All her life she had lived alone with her mother in an old brown house in a small rural community. ... Ellen, alone, turned to the only contact she knew, an art agent in New York. Posing, years of posing, was her only talent so she was introduced to two leading artists, Dick Alven and Sandy Macintosh. Both used her as a model and both fell in love with her... but Ellen, trying to follow the warped philosophy of her mother to "love lightly," resists the thought of love. Her circle of friends is small, artists and two or three girl models. Ellen attends a ball with Sandy. While dancing a tall young man claimed her and romance is born. A ride in the park, proposal, the next day marriage to Tony, and wealth. But she'd "Love Lightly." Ellen told herself. She would never let him know how desperately she loved him, even though she were his wife. Ellen insists upon living her own life, maintaining her home in her small room, even though Tony is wealthy. ... Jane, of Tony's wealthy set, is disappointed in Tony's sudden marriage to Ellen. Now go on with the story. Poor little Ellen. She was right about herself! She was a fool. Being one, she said— "I'm sure Jane understands you. By all means go to see her." Tony reached for his hat. "I suppose," he said, "that as soon as I'm gone, you'll phone for Alven. I have no doubt that he understands you as well as Jane understands me." Ellen was blinking to keep back the far better, if it didn't! Life can't just be left to slide along by day light. Sanity brought Ellen back to earth with a thud. Her eyes were sober as she surveyed Tony, across her little breakfast table. Tony wasn't sober. Tony wasn't sane. His eyes had a deep warm glow that lay back of them. No, Tony wasn't sober, that was why Ellen found it hard to say what she felt she must. For Ellen, this morning, had many things to say. Ellen had waked this morning a woman, and all of the fears that are woman's heritage lay on her heart. Always, to almost every bride, comes a moment of terror. A moment when, looking at her new husband, she asks an age-old question. "Will it always be like this?" she asks. Even though she knows, in her soul, that no fire can burn at fever eternally. "O God," she prays, "let it be like this forever." Even though she knows that even God can not put the stamp of forever on earthly things! Ellen was asking the same question that every bride asks, was saying the same prayer. But in her case, it wasn't a question — and it wasn't a prayer. It was a cruel fact that she was telling herself, and telling God, too. "This won't last," she was saying to her soul. "It can't last. Oh, I won't let it hurt me—it mustn't kill me—when it's all over!" Tony was speaking. "I've got to go to the office this morning;" he said, "for just a little while. I bet, honey, you're surprised. I bet you didn't have any idea I really worked! And then we'll take the car and start off somewhere, for a honey-moon. We'll just go—we'll not plan where. We'll start for the place where Tony continued in a duck-sided said. "You can stay here all the money you want—but we won't go hut apartment. You've been pose, all the time—about get you. Well, it won't be I'll see you, but it won't man and wife—I guess I make terms! I won't try you're the one, from now make the advances. But this. I don't want a boy for wife, not now. I don't half-portion love, anything happened to me—be—" he choked, he turned to the window. "as real as it seemed, last night." Ellen put the cup right the table. "You're the family," she said slowly up to you. Have it yet? Only I'll take none of you. Tony reached for his hand reached the last evening time he didn't hesitate in—this time Ellen didn't tell "You're stepping out," he said shortly. "Well, he called, as he clattered stairs. He might have body going out—just anyone Ellen called out the reply. There might have phire hoop upon her finger." "That will be nice!" she And then she went back room and cleared off the door until she made the day certain pillow, she saw that might have been made that she broke down. "Oh, Tony, I love you!" "Oh, Tony, I want you!" married to you—I want wife. Come back to me! But Tony didn't come on his way to some off-worked. Ellen expected to feel Poor little Ellen. She was right about herself! She was a fool. Being one, she said— "I'm sure Jane understands you. By all means go to see her." Tony reached for his hat. "I suppose," he said, "that as soon as I'm gone, you'll phone for Alven. I have no doubt that he understands you as well as Jane understands me." Ellen was blinking to keep back the tears. "Dick always leaves his receiver off, in the evening," she said. "He likes to work at night—he doesn't like interruptions. I couldn't reach him by phone," she finished. "That ought to be a comfort to you!"" "So it is," said Tony. He had his hat in his hand. He was fussing with the brim of it. "So it is," said Tony again. He too was blinking. Ellen was speaking. Out of turn again, but she couldn't help it. "Tony," she said, "belleve this. You mustn't think that I phone to men—that I have them come up here, alone, with me at night. Dick stayed just once, after a little party. He stayed to talk about work. Then he asked me to marry him—that was the time. But I sent him right home. I—I've never had any of these sessions. Tony, like last night, and this evening. Except with you. I haven't lived in the city very long. Only three years. I'm—I'm not used to the racket, I suppose. But I've always wanted to keep myself, Tony . . . for—" she paused. But up over her white little face a heavy flush came creeping. Tony, fascinated, watched that flush. He saw it cover her chin, redden her very ear lobes. "Keep yourself," he echoed rather stupidly, "keep yourself—for what, Ellen?" Ellen's whole heart was reaching out, her hands were reaching out. She couldn't help it. This was love. This desire to give and give and give . "To keep myself for my husabnd, Tony," she answered. The boy was laying down his hat. He wasn't blinking, any more, but he moistened his lips with his tongue, as if they were dry, before he spoke. "You don't want me to leave, do you?" he said, and he was whispering, too. "You would feel badly if I went to Jane, now?" Ellen was retreating, somehow, before his advance—for Tony was advancing. But she had crossed, for the "This won't last," she was saying to her soul. "It can't last. Oh, I won't let it hurt me—it mustn't kill me—when it's all over!" Tony was speaking. "I've got to go to the office this morning," he said, "for just a little while. I bet, honey, you're surprised. I bet you didn't have any idea I really worked! And then we'll take the car and start off somewhere, for a honeymoon. We'll just go—we'll not plan where. We'll start for the place where the blue begins. We may end up a couple of other places. But it doesn't matter—as long as we're together!" Ellen gulped down some coffee. "Tony," she said, "I—hate to throw cold water on your plans, but I think it might be better if we put off the honeymoon for a little while . . ." Tony's voice was hurt. "But why?" he questioned. "We, of all married folks, need a honeymoon. To get acquainted—" All at once he was out of his chair, was on Ellen's side of the improvised breakfast table, was on the arm of her chair. "I didn't know," he said, "that being married was so—so swell. I didn't know that love could be like this!" His head ducked down, was snuggled into the curve of Ellen's throat. He was kissing the place where a pulse throbbed crazily. "Don't, Tony," she said, almost sharply. "Please don't. That's over." Tony's arm tightened. His voice came in muffled fashion, because his lips were against her throat. "You mean that kissing's over?" he questioned. "the first day after we're married?" Ellen tried to make the tone of her voice seem hard. It was time to make herself clear, at last. Her whole life depended upon the stand she took—her every chance at happiness! She should love lightly. "I told you," she said, "night before last when we met at the dance, that marriage—to me—was just marriage! That I wasn't in love with you, not in the way you mean." "How," Tony questioned, "how about last night?" "Last night," answered Ellen, "was hysteria. It wasn't love." Slowly Tony was rising from the arm of Ellen's chair. He walked the length of Ellen's prim little room—and stood looking down, from her window, to the crowded street below. "I guess you're right," he said, "about there being no honeymoon, for us. I guess you're right about the whole story." And then she waited for Tony for the first time until she made the certain pillow, she saw that might have been made that she broke down. "Oh, Tony, I love you! Oh, Tony, I want you! married to you—I want wife. Come back to me! But Tony didn't come on his way to some off-worked. Ellen expected to feel met Tony for the first time until she made the opportunity at once. For the first two days of she stayed at home waiting him momentarily to return at the sound of every foot stairs—shivering as she wide-eyed and sleepless; wise enough to know that himself waiting wistfully; sign from her. But after days she didn't stay home Pride can be like that: to luncheon with Gay, blandly of the double star. It was after she had for two weeks — after through two aching week ing Tony—that she met avenue one afternoon as ing home. Sandy's attitude was carefully veiled. Elli that her marriage to a man given her an added impo eyes. "Mind, Mrs. Brander," I walk along with you for blocks? Ellen laughed. "A couple of blocks, at she said." For I'm not get anywhere." Sandy's eyebrows were "The poppa got a night questioned. And added, Ellen tossed her head. "We're modernists, San." Every night is a night either of us is concerned playing the marriage game to the old sentimental s Tony and I." Sandy's eyebrows came eyes narrowed. "In that case," he said have dinner together, ton joyfeeling like a hu Lothario for a change. I ginning to lose confidence. Ellen felt just a little l was the first time since that she'd actually made that she'd put herself, "To keep myself for my husabnd, Tony," she answered. The boy was laying down his hat. He wasn't blinking, any more, but he moistened his lips with his tongue, as if they were dry, before he spoke. "You don't want me to leave, do you?" he said, and he was whispering, too. "You would feel badly if I went to Jane, now?" Ellen was retreating, somehow, before his advance—for Tony was advancing. But she had crossed, for the moment at least, her Rubicon. "Yes, I would mind," she said. "Just as much as you'd mind if you knew that I were going to stay here, with Dick!" She was back against the wall, now. But her eyes were lost in Tony's gaze. They were bluer than ever. Tony's eyes. Perhaps because they were wet. "Darling," said Tony huskily, "you do love me!" Ellen tried to deny it. To say that she didn't love him. She tried to, but the words stuck in her throat. With her eyes lost in his gaze, with the lovely color staining her childish throat, she nodded. Mutely, but vehemently. She was held tightly in Tony's arms—so tightly that it hurt, that it left her breathless. Or was it the pounding of her heart that made breathing so difficult? "Darling," Tony was saying, and his voice seemed to come from ever so far away. "I love you. You're my wife." Automatically Ellen felt of her wedding ring with the thumb of her left hand. "You're my wife!" Tony was saying. But she couldn't answer now, not the way the walls of the room were closing in, not the way lights were dancing. And then the lights had ceased to dance. For Tony's hand, feeling along the wall, had found the electric switch, and the world was all darkness—a sweet, warm, throbbing darkness. Sanity always comes with the morning. Oh, sometimes it would be better. Tony continued in a dull monotone. "I'll go back to live at the club," he said. "You can stay here—you can have all the money you want, of course—but we won't go hunting for an apartment. You've been right, I suppose, all the time—about not letting it get you. Well, it won't get me, either. I'll see you, but it won't be as if we're man and wife—I guess it's my turn to make terms! I won't try to hold you—the one, from now on, who must make the advances. But remember this. I don't want a bought-and-paid-for wife, not now. I don't really want half-portion love, any more. Something's happened to me. I want love to be—" he choked, he turned back again to the window, "as real," he finished, "as it seemed, last night." Ellen put the cup right side up, on the table. "You're the head of the family," she said slowly. "I suppose it's up to you. Have it your own way. Only I'll take none of your money..." Tony reached for his hat, as he had reached the last evening. Only this time he didn't hesitate in the doorway—this time Ellen didn't call him back. "You're stepping out of character," he said shortly. "Well, see you soon." He called, as he clattered down the stairs. He might have been just anybody going out—just anybody at all! Ellen called out the conventional reply. There might have been no saphire hoop upon her finger. "That will be nice!" she answered. And then she went back into the room and cleared off the table. It wasn't until she made the day bed, until in certain pillow, she saw a round dent that might have been made by a head that she broke down. "Oh, Tony, I love you!" she sobbed. "Oh, Tony, I want you! I want to be married to you—I want to be your wife. Come back to me!" But Tony didn't come back. He was on his way to some office where he worked. Ellen expected to feel shy when she But she was allready when he came for her in an hour (she met him at the door, he mustn't come up to her so obviously unchanged apartment!) Sandy did it all very well! It was as if that evening he were planning to outdo himself—to make the party memorable. They rode in state to one of the larger hotels that boasted a dance orchestra and a roof garden. They were shot, in the hotel elevator, to the roof garden. They were shown to a table close beside the dance floor. "It's nice roof!" she told him—and tried valiantly not to tell herself that it would have been perfect if Tony had been the one to hold back her chair, to seat himself opposite her! "I suppose," said Sandy, as he studied the menu, "that the boy friend is working, or something. Well, more power to him!" And Ellen echoed. "More power to him," as she folded her hands tight beneath the damask table cloth, and let her eyes wander across the room. As her glance wandered from table to table, she felt her body stiffen. For there, directly across the dance floor, immaculate in dinner jacket, and with his blue eyes, bluer than ever, sat Tony. Tony wasn't alone, either, for Jane in a wisp of devastatingly cut flame-colored chiffon, sat opposite him. "Why," Ellen whispered, and her breath came in startled little gasps, "why, there's Tony, now!" It wasn't that her voice carried; it was that her thought carried! Tony looked up from across the room as sharp as Sandy did from across the table. And then, without a word to the girl in flame color who sat opposite him, he was up onto his feet, was coming over the polished square of dance floor. "Say," he began, "this is a surprise!" Sandy had risen, and was fingering the silkiness of his Vandykke beard. The gesture was sophisticated, perhaps, but the eyes above the beard were frankly ment one imagines that she meant to, and then she leaned out of the car and her slim, beautiful hand rested lightly upon the sleeve of Tony's coat. "You'll not forget," she said, "that it's my birthday Saturday, and that the crowd is coming down to our country place for the weekend. You said you'd be there, you know." Tony mumbled something. It sounded to Ellen like "I'll remember." And then he was starting ta sham shut the door of the car. But his movement was arrested by Sandy's gay tactless voice. "Throwing a party," Sandy asked, "and not inviting me! How come—Ellen should have somebody along who talks her language. She'd lost with all of you folks—who are Phillistines." Sandy, you see, was assuming—the other three, Jane and Ellen and Tony, realized it at the same horrible second—that Ellen was to be a member of the party! The birthday house party to which Jane had invited Tony—Tony evidently, to her mind, was still playing the role of a bachelor! "Of course, you can come, Sandy," she said, sweetly. "If you want to. It might be much more charming for Ellen to have one of her own—sort. Maybe you have the right idea, at that." And then the car had gone flashing down the street. For a long moment there was silence before Ellen found words. Before she spoke in a voice that was shot through with bewilderment. "And now," she said, "what are we going to do?" Tony laughed boyishly. "I guess," he said, "that it's all set! It begins to look as if you're coming with me to a house party. Sandy certainly put Jane in an odd position, didn't he? But, as usual she same through one hundred per cent." "Yes," said Ellen, "yes, she did. Jane did come through. As usual." She spoke so softly that for all Tony knew she was sighing. He didn't know that all at once there was a seething anger And then she waited on the room and cleared off the table. It wasn't until she made the day bed, until, in certain pillow, she saw a round dent that might have been made by a head that she broke down. "Oh, Tony, I love you!" she sobbed. "Oh, Tony, I want you! I want to be married to you—I want to be your wife. Come back to me!" But Tony didn't come back. He was on his way to some office where he worked. Ellen expected to feel shy when she met Tony for the first time, after he had left her room, but she didn't have the opportunity at once to feel shy. For the first two days of the first week, she stayed at home waiting, expecting him momentarily to return. Flinching at the sound of every footstep on the stairs—shivering as she lay in bed, wide-eyed and sleepless. Not being wise enough to know that Tony was himself waiting wistfully, eagerly, for a sign from her. But after the first two days she didn't stay any more. Pride can be like that. She went out to luncheon with Gay, and talked blandly of the double standard. It was after she had been married for two weeks — after she'd lived through two aching weeks of not seeing Tony—that she met Sandy on the avenue one afternoon as she was going home. Sandy's attitude toward her was carefully veiled. Ellen could see that her marriage to a millionaire had given her an added importance in his eyes. "Mind, Mrs. Brander," he asked, "if we walk along with you for a couple of blocks?" Ellen laughed. "A couple of blocks, at least, Sandy," she said. "For I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere." Sandy's eyebrows were raised. "The poppa got a night out?" he questioned. And added, "So soon?" Ellen tossed her head. "We're modernists, Sandy," she said. "Every night is a night out as far as either of us is concerned. We're not playing the marriage game according to the old sentimental standards, not Tony and I." Sandy's eyebrows came down, and his eyes narrowed. In that case," he said, "we might have dinner together, tonight—I'd enjoyfeeling like a husband-robbing Lothario for a change. I'm sort of beginning to lose confidence in myself." Ellen felt just a little icy, inside. It was the first time since her wedding that she'd actually made the break that she'd put herself, married, in a room and cleared off the table. It wasn't until she made the day bed, until, in certain pillow, she saw a round dent that might have been made by a head that she broke down. "Oh, Tony, I love you!" she sobbed. "Oh, Tony, I want you! I want to be married to you—I want to be your wife. Come back to me!" But Tony didn't come back. He was on his way to some office where he worked. Ellen expected to feel shy when she met Tony for the first time, after he had left her room, but she didn't have the opportunity at once to feel shy. For the first two days of the first week, she stayed at home waiting, expecting him momentarily to return. Flinching at the sound of every footstep on the stairs—shivering as she lay in bed, wide-eyed and sleepless. Not being wise enough to know that Tony was himself waiting wistfully, eagerly, for a sign from her. But after the first two days she didn't stay any more. Pride can be like that. She went out to luncheon with Gay, and talked blandly of the double standard. It was after she had been married for two weeks — after she'd lived through two aching weeks of not seeing Tony—that she met Sandy on the avenue one afternoon as she was going home. Sandy's attitude toward her was carefully veiled. Ellen could see that her marriage to a millionaire had given her an added importance in his eyes. "Mind, Mrs. Brander," he asked, "if we walk along with you for a couple of blocks?" Ellen laughed. "A couple of blocks, at least, Sandy," she said. "For I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere." Sandy's eyebrows were raised. "The poppa got a night out?" he questioned. And added, "So soon?" Ellen tossed her head. "We're modernists, Sandy," she said. "Every night is a night out as far as either of us is concerned. We're not playing the marriage game according to the old sentimental standards, not Tony and I." Sandy's eyebrows came down, and his eyes narrowed. In that case," he said, "we might have dinner together, tonight—I'd enjoyfeeling like a husband-robbing Lothario for a change. I'm sort of beginning to lose confidence in myself." Ellen felt just a little icy, inside. It was the first time since her wedding that she'd actually made the break that she'd put herself, married, in a room and cleared off the table. It wasn't until she made the day bed, until, in certain pillow, she saw a round dent that might have been made by a head that she broke down. "Oh, Tony, I love you!" she sobbed. "Oh, Tony, I want you! I want to be married to you—I want to be your wife. Come back to me!" But Tony didn't come back. He was on his way to some office where he worked. Ellen expected to feel shy when she met Tony for the first time, after he had left her room, but she didn't have the opportunity at once to feel shy. For the first two days of the first week, she stayed at home waiting, expecting him momentarily to return. Flinching at the sound of every footstep on the stairs—shivering as she lay in bed, wide-eyed and sleepless. Not being wise enough to know that Tony was himself waiting wistfully, eagerly, for a sign from her. But after the first two days she didn't stay any more. Pride can be like that. She went out to luncheon with Gay, and talked blandly of the double standard. It was after she had been married for two weeks — after she'd lived through two aching weeks of not seeing Tony—that she met Sandy on the avenue one afternoon as she was going home. Sandy's attitude toward her was carefully veiled. Ellen could see that her marriage to a millionaire had given her an added importance in his eyes. "Mind, Mrs. Brander," he asked, "if we walk along with you for a couple of blocks?" Ellen laughed. "A couple of blocks, at least, Sandy," she said. "For I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere." Sandy's eyebrows were raised. "The poppa got a night out?" he questioned. And added, "So soon?" Ellen tossed her head. "We're modernists, Sandy," she said. "Every night is a night out as far as either of us is concerned. We're not playing the marriage game according to the old sentimental standards, not Tony and I." Sandy's eyebrows came down, and his eyes narrowed. In that case," he said, "we might have dinner together, tonight—I'd enjoyfeeling like a husband-robbing Lothario for a change. I'm sort of beginning to lose confidence in myself." Ellen felt just a little icy, inside. It was the first time since her wedding that she'd actually made the break that she'd put herself, married, in a room and cleared off the table. It wasn't until she made the day bed, until, in certain pillow, she saw a round dent that might have been made by a head that she broke down. "Oh, Tony, I love you!" she sobbed. "Oh, Tony, I want you! I want to be married to you—I want to be your wife. Come back to me!" But Tony didn't come back. He was on his way to some office where he worked. Ellen expected to feel shy when she met Tony for the first time, after he had left her room, but she didn't have the opportunity at once to feel shy. For the first two days of the first week, she stayed at home waiting, expecting him momentarily to return. Flinching at the sound of every footstep on the stairs—shivering as she lay in bed, wide-eyed and sleepless. Not being wise enough to know that Tony was himself waiting wistfully, eagerly for a sign from her. But after the first two days she didn't stay any more. Pride can be like that. She went out to luncheon with Gay, and talked blandly of the double standard. It was after she had been married for two weeks — after she'd lived through two aching weeks of not seeing Tony—that she met Sandy on the avenue one afternoon as she was going home. Sandy's attitude toward her was carefully veiled. Ellen could see that her marriage to a millionaire had given her an added importance in his eyes. "Mind, Mrs. Brander," he asked, "if we walk along with you for a couple of blocks?" Ellen laughed. "A couple of blocks, at least, Sandy," she said. "For I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere." Sandy's eyebrows were raised. "The poppa got a night out?" he questioned. And added, "So soon?" Ellen tossed her head. "We're modernists, Sandy," she said. "Every night is a night out as far as either of us is concerned. We're not playing the marriage game according to the old sentimental standards, not Tony and I." Sandy's eyebrows came down, and his eyes narrowed. In that case," he said, "we might have dinner together，tonight—I'd enjoyfeeling like a husband-robbing Lothario for a change.I'm sort of beginning to lose confidence in myself." Ellen felt just a little icy，inside.它 was the first time since her wedding that she'd actually made the break that她'd put herself，married，in a room and cleared off the table．It wasn't untilshe madethedaybed，until，in certainpillow，she sawaroundasheroughtupfromacrosstheroomassharpasanddidfromacrossthetable.Andthenwithoutawordtohegirlinflamecolorwhsatoppositehim，hewasupontohisfeet，wascomingoverthepolishedsquareofdancefloor. "Say,"he began,"thisisa surprise!" Sandyhadrisen,andwasfingerlingthesilkinessofhisVandykeboard.Thegesturewassophisticated,buttheyesabovethebeardwere franklyapprehensive. "So itis,"saidSandy.Hergrinnednervously."Justwhatdoesonedoinat situationlikethis?"heasked:"It'salloutoforder!" Ellenwasn'tasbrownashehadbeenedwhenEllenfirstsawhim. "You'realwrong,heng,"he said.“Atatime likethis,partiesjointogether!Ifyouhavn'tordered,comeovertoourtable.” These wasn'tanythingelsetodo.Ellensasgracefullyaspossible,andwishingthatherdresswerepinkorblueororchidor anythingbutwhiterosefromherseat,andwasescortedbythetwomenbacktotheplacewherethegirlinflamechiffonwassitting. Thewaitbroughtforwardtwostextchairs，laidtwotextplacesintthetableatwhichTonyandhissuesthadalreadystarted theirdinner. Thenmusicbegan.AndTonysaid."Dance?"—lookingatEllen.ButEllenwasn'tdancingwithTony,nottnight.DancingwithTonyalwayshadaruinouseffect uponher. "Sandybroughtme,"shesaid."I'llhavethisonewithhim." It wasn'ta jollyevening.Bitmanagedtobeadequatelyconversationalandverypolite.Noreferencewastmadetothelasteveningthatthefourspenttogether. Andthen,afterthedinnerhadbeendrawnoutaslongaspossible.itwastimetogohome!Therewasn'tanythingelsetodo. ItwasSandy,nottony,thedecidedthesituation. "Ithink,jane,"hesaid.(they'dnevergottenpastthefirstnamestage)."thatit'sup TOme.totakeyouhome.eventhoughIstartedthepartywithanothergal!Afterall,youknow;we'reontheoutside-lookingin." Janebitherlip sharply. "I'vegotmycardownstairs,"shesaid."Icantakeyouallhome.youknow." Sandy's eyebrows came down, and his eyes narrowed. "In that case," he said, "we might have dinner together, tonight—I'd enjoy feeling like a husband-robbing Lothario for a change. I'm sort of beginning to lose confidence in myself." Ellen felt just a little icy, inside. It was the first time since her wedding that she'd actually made the break—that she'd put herself, married, in a position of accepting social favors from another man. "I'll meet you anywhere you say, Sandy," she told him, "at any time you say." "Let's make it a real party," he said. "We'll dress, and I'll stop for you at your place in about an hour. I don't suppose, by any chance, that you'd have a cocktail waiting for me?" "Marriage," she said, "hasn't changed my ideas about that, Sandy." NO. A-4177 NOTICE TO CREDITORS ESTATE OF J. D. CLAUSSEN. DECEASED. NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN, by the undersigned, G. A. Suhr, Executor of the estate of J. D. Claussen, deceased, to the creditors of and all persons having claims against the said deceased to file them with the necessary vouchers in the office of the Clerk of the Superior Court of the County of Orange, State of California, or to exhibit the same with the necessary vouchers to the said G. A. Suhr, Executor at his place of business, 304 Bank of America Bldg., Anaheim in the County of Orange; within six months after the first publication of this notice. Dated this 5th day of December, 1934. G. A. Suhr, Executor of the Estate of J. D. Claussen, Deceased. Stephen Gallagher, Attorney for Executor. 12/6/5t BUSINESS DIRECTORY Ambulance Service Day or Night—Phone 3209 Backs, Terry & Campbell H. P. CAMPBELL, Resident Director 251 No. Lemon Street ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Phone 3212 Open Evenings Sunday by Appointment DR. OSHER PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Dentist—Painless Extration Oculist—Glasses Fitted 107½ E. Center Street ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Office Phone 3213 Residence 887 South Los Angeles St Residence Phone 2610 Hours: — 11-12; 2-4; 7-8 Telephone 4105 DeLuxe Ambulance Service HILGENFELD'S J. W. Truxaw, M.D. PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Golden State Bank Bldg. Cor Center and Los Angeles Sts. ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Telephone 4105 DeLuxe Ambulance Service HILGENFELD'S FUNERAL HOME South Lemon at Broadway ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Residence 887 South Los Angeles St Residence Phono 2610 Hours: — 11-12; 2-4; 7-8 J. W. Truxaw, M.D. PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Golden State Bank Bldg. Cor Center and Los Angeles Sts. ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Sash and Doors Nagel-Gohres & Co. 418 S. Lemon St. ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA ANAHEIM FEED AND FUEL CO. Dealers in GRAIN - FLOUR - SEEDS - WOOD - COAL - HAY Phone 3210 W. D. GRAFTON, Prop Public Weighing Scales 242 W. Center St. THE ART OF TATTOOING DATES FROM AUTIQUITY-THE AMERICAN INDIANS WERE FOUND TO HAVE FIGURES OF ANIMALS TATTOOED ON THEIR BODIES. IN A SERIES OF EXPERIMENTS TO FIND OUT HOW BAR DOWN INTO THE OCEAN DAYLIGHT GOES—IT WAS DISCOVERED TO GO DOWN 200 FEET. THE ART OF TATTOOING DATES FROM AUTIQUITY- THE AMERICAN INDIANS WERE FOUND TO HAVE FIGURES OF ANIMALS TATTOOED ON THEIR BODIES. IN A SERIES OF EXPERIMENTS TO FIND OUT HOW FAR DOWN INTO THE OCEAN DAYLIGHT GOES—IT WAS DISCOVERED TO GO DOWN 200 FEET. UUC HAS PAID PULLMAN PORTERS IN SMALL CHANGE SINCE THE IN-LEEPING-CAR. FOR TIPS THE EARLIEST RECORD OF PLUM PUDDING GOES BACK TO THE YEAR 1658-A RECORD OF IT WAS FOUND IN A FRENCHMAN'S DIARY OF THAT TIME. HOW TO RETURN HOME — JOIN US NEXT WEEK AND WE'LL SEARCH FOR MORE FACTS— By Charles McManus I THOUGHT YOU WAS ALL READY IN A BATHIN' SUIT ???? C. MCM.