(Continued From Yesterday.) "I love you. Jo Ellen!” Her eyes were turned toward the ljollow. She didn't see the trees; she saw Stan Lamar. She felt his hands, strong and warm, and the quiver, the deep, wicked sort of quiv er. that came with their touch. She recalled the flash of fear about her self that ran with the tremor. And now Marty, who was not a secret, who need not be explained or justi fied, who had the benediction of home, who was as convenient and comfort able as a porch rocker, was repeating the great word and Invoking the magic of the supreme adventure. Had she really been afraid of Stan? Had her fear of herself only been lulled when she was last with him? Would the day come when she would again be afraid? Would she be able to say to Stan the utterly final No that she had said to herself, and stop drifting in *he mist of a shameless kind of dream? It wasn't like anything else about her. she was sure, that she should again and again have found herself groping for a way to shut out Stnn for good and all. Perhaps prom ising Marty was the one way. She didn’t want to promise Marty, much as she cared for him. But a prom ise .. . "I feel," said Marty fervently, "as if it was all meant to be like this. That thiR high place was chiseled out thousands of years ago so that we could sit here and look down into our old playground while you said yes. Do you know, Jo Ellen. I found that ‘the high place’ is in ^he Bible. Our chaplain told me. It would be a thing you could tell a chaplain, if you were on the other side, that on our high place . . .” "Marty,” Jo Ellen said quietly, "I ought to have a long time—" "Yes!" cried Marty. “A long time to get used to it, Jo Ellen. Scotty! Think how long it may be! But you know what I want now—before I go —to live on—so that I can say to myself. When I get back! I’ll say it a million times. Jo Ellen!” When he caught her, and held her close, she did not resist him. A warm shiver came when she felt his lips pressed hard against her own. She closed her eyes, but she could see, faintly—very far away—the always astonishing blue eyes of Stan Lamar. PART FOUR. The Bolt. I. The pledge to Marty had a first effect of simplifying somewhat a world otherwise In great confusion: and. by a consequence Jo Ellen had hoped for, Stan seemed at a greater distance. Actually he had come very close, but the theory that the prom Ise was to he a protection dulled, and at times even quite silenced, those speculations about fear which had whispered so disturbingly in Jo El len's mind. There might be some doubt as to whether it was the prom ise or a change in Stan that brought the difference in her feeling. If there were two reasons Instead of merely one, it was the easier to forget the apprehensive time. The situation was affected somewhat by the fact that Stan was called upon to make trips to other cities, one as far as San Francisco. He had not expected this feature of his work. On the first occasion he spoke of it with impa tience, but Jo Ellen came to believe that he liked the diversities of the travel. Although she had told her self that she was not Interested in his likes and dislikes, she found the mystery of him poignantly interest ing. For he was still mysterious. In some ways he seemed more myste rious than before. As a kind of per son he had a fascinating obscurity, as belonging to regions not to be fathomed. He wasn’t comfortably un derstandable like Marty. If Marty knew a thing you soon saw how he came to know it. She met a good many people who had something of this efTect, who, in the twist of their talk, in the things they laughed at or were silent about, suggested abysses of experience lying some where beyond the shell of common sight. But these people were not thrust upon her as lives to be trans lated. She soon came to see that in this particular region of activity nothing was really surprising, that you were not subject to certain sorts of ques tion, that you could do anything you chose to do without having to explain. You could, for instance, go to lunch under any circumstances that amused you. Evidently it would not have been considered discreet to lunch with anyone where Eberly might be an observer. To bo seen sitting with his secretary might naturally provoke dangerous speculation. However. Eberly always lunched at a grill that was monastirally male. When he had been seen at dinner with a woman it was always in the company of a third person. The assumption appeared to be that such an incident was inevitably related to the crisis of a contract. She finally accepted an invitation to lunch which Shaffer advanced with the skillful innocence she came to expect of him. Ho made no allusions to the office. His talk about the the atrical business was disoreetly vague Jo Ellen asked about many thing, and he appeared to be deeply concerned to avoid showing how astonishing he thought some of her questions were. He preferred to tell about the baby and the sheer wonder of Mrs. Shaffer. Eoth the doctor and the nurse bad assured him that not only in weight but in brightness the baby was one of those real events that sometimes startle obstetrical science. In fact her size was embarrassing. When they said three weeks old people thought they were Joking or putting over something. She looked more like six months. Shaffer told Jo Ellen she could, of course, have tickets for any show she wanted to see. He made It clear that attending to such things would always be one of the easiest things he did. Jo Ellen had been to the theater very seldom and the new privilege had many excitements. These excitements were communt cated to the home group. It was unavoidable that they should rever berate. Myrtle Fleck acquired a fresh interest In the Rewers. Jo Ellen had found many reasons to distrust Myrtle, who had made unsuccessful attempts to tolerate different forms of work and was always quarreling with her mother. For neighbor rea sons It was necessary to make pre tenses in explanation of the relaxed ties. Certain school friends, and even persons of the dignity of Mr. Sedley Mason, gave an enlivened attention to Jo Ellen's goings and comings. One who could evoke theater tickets was made to feel the pressure of a pecu liar and unmistakably popularity. To plays themselves Jo Ellen was fully responsive, though a play as a play soon lost any unvarying glam or. She began to like one more than another in a more critical way. She found herself gathering up the patois of the professionals. But the philos ophy of the theater as an Institution seemed to be more obscure than if she had been somewhere else. She heard much about the art of the stage and about the business of the theater. Occasionally these seemed to have a close relationship, but just what the relationship was she never was able to make out. Often the art and the business appeared ns enemies, which was funny. Again they were sobbing on each other's necks, which could he uproariously funny, too. Every body agreed about a full house and an S.R.O. sign. Beyond this point there was hitter and unending con fusion. If a play was good it had a run. If it was enough better It was shut down In a week or two. Evi dently there was a certain kind of lad play that was sure of big houses I for an interval that had to be covered somehow. And there was a certain kind of good play that wouldn't have big houses at first, but might run for years. The sun-fire bad play thus became a factor in the business of the theater as a sort of dirty fellow .who was sent out to hold the crowd until the good play got Its clothes on There were theories, with pRthoi In them, about managers who put on nine poor plays to earn money enough to afford the sacrificial Ideai Ism of putting on one good play that could he appreciated hut that would appease the chaste hungers of the Idealistic managers. Every appeal was directed at last to the public, the kind of public that came to Broad way shows. For this public there was both cordiality and contempt. To both the artist* who were cynics and the managers who wers moralists it was the common enemy. Tt belittled the best plans. It loved to surprise by approval and to kill gayly by turning Its thumbs down. If It could be appeased for a given number of weeks, the play could go to the rest of the country and make money. Jo Ellen liked to wonder about Eberly’s point of view. She never succeeded In piecing together any thing like an answer to her query. She knew he must wish to give "them" what they wanted. She knew, too, that he had a fathomless con tempt for "them." It was plain that he believed profoundly In the potency of some actors. Tet he treated all actor* n* If they were babe* in the wood. He went further and excoriat ed them a* driveling fools, a* grasp ing upetnrt*. or a* pitiful hangers on. Money—there had to be money; money meant that there waa appro val; approval meant trimming and sacrifice. (To Be Continued Tomorrow.) New York --Day by Day By o. o, McIntyre. New York, July 25. — Thoughts while strolling about New York: The Sixth Avenue restaurants where show midgets go. Job hunting actresses greeted by "No Casting" signs. A woman Interne on a Bellevue ambu lance. The home of a former mayor —with two lighted lamps In old Dutch fashion In the doorway. How many "ra's” In "Ta-ra-ra-ra boom-de-ay?” The flat, emphatic heat of a gas house district. Housewives who live In pathetic doggedness. Hus bands who are- a prop and a habit. Pipe layers. Muck shovelers and odd job tollers. Times Square at Us calmest—6 p. m. Stage dressers going to dressing rnoraa And the blind newsdealer at 47tja street who knows all the actors. FurtH'e ticket speculators. Beatrice Lillie of Chariot’s Revue. One of the new toasts of the town. Commissioner Enright flashes by In his car. Perhaps dirty work at the cross-roads. Or maybe In a hurry for a dinner. My head Is turned—that woman dropped something or other. An English actor with his checkered trousers and seal brown vest—the old tin of fruit. A woman swoons In a telephone booth. Perhaps got the right number. The wholesale millinery district In the Thirties. That fellow has had something besides near beer. Mum bling to myself again. Wonder what ever became of the little mushroom chop run by a Sicilian with rings In his ears. Cheerless rug stores. Always emp ty. A shirt shop with a sign: "We receive patrons only by appointment.” That’s putting the sixteen pound bunk. Blowsy and unkempt women dinging to the shadows. As expres sionless as their passions. Fifth Avenue's dying color and flash. Yellow blobs of light simmer ing on the gray asphalt. A rabbi In priestly vestment gazing at a fragile glory in oils. And another day 1# gone. At 110th street and Manhattan Avenue the elevated rises to Its high est point. Headline writers are call Ing It suicide Point. In the past two years five soul sick people Jumped from the elevated to the street helow. Three women and two men decided on this spectacular method of ending worldly worries. Eavesdropped In the Rltx lobby. A beautiful young girl Is speaking to her companion as they enter the ele vator: “I certainly pick the citrons. Here I've been lunching with him and the poor sap tells me today he's on the wrong side of the market.” It Is a subterranean rabbit hutch leading down from a street In Oreen wlch Village. A dim lit sign sways from the lintel of the door. A hrare of cowbells sound the warning ap proach of the visitor. It Is the nearest to the worst side of Paris one may find In New York. It is the haunt of those strange lisping lollipops—the psycnpathlc hybrids that migrate to Broadway. My guide was a private detective who knows of a world rHrrly mentioned even In whlsp**rs. It was a relief to reach the clean tang of night air on the sidewalk. It Is difficult to Imagine Wash ington Square was where New York era once went duck hunting. It seems so very far down tnwti now even to those living In the Forties and what It must seem at 272d street! Many old homes around the Square are now being made over Into apartment houses. The Brevoort—the l?ist of the old hotels—Is Installing a new elevator. Only a few homes have a tiny patch of lawn In front. Almost any time of day one finds a modern Jostling crowd on the lower strln of the avenue. (Copyright, 1114.) Oh, Man! By Briggs _______ now ru see \nhati OKJ THE WOK PROGRAML6T\3 thby GflNenAuy hav£ j ha\j£ The PFtBTTV GOOD >5T«JFF j-f SoCONV "-t-S f,A5T 1 ! i_._ i a ■»» +r MV dOODNESS \MHY JMDN'T Vo>J Remind Met o(-‘ »T * * V FoRAOT all. about »t • ••• djoll ruev a® CALLIN& Dl NNSK- hJO^J we WON'T HAV/f? TIMii rol< AnV TmimO * LETS WASH (jP » THE NEBBS LOOK AND LEARN. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess • ■ _ pM(V, lC / A $10,000 DRAFT \ /mr. suDER.t WOULD ASKNtxA 15 iNm POCKET \ TO FEAST VDuR HUNGQVEVESON) JUST RETURNING I NA GLAO MV HEART THIS £20.000 DRAFT AND THEN } fronts orncr \ NlOT ON 'THwr / go and wash vooR hands / or ^ ^ l SIDE -IT WOULD J \ AND I'LL LET HOU---^ „ V KNOCK IT OUT /^ \ ‘feel IT CALEB RENROD vjhERC HE \ E || | RETURNED THE SIGNED PAPERS O] OT AGREEMENT 0 TO INCORPORATE • the nebds SUDER CO. N0-#6ll FOR A HALF MILLION DOLLARS AND RECEIVED A CHECK FOR $20,000 IN ADVANCE hKS__ . / ANO MR REN POD TOLD ME THAT \ /1 WC\UT YOOYO RAY PARTICULAR [THIS IS THE PRELIMINARY FOR, A A [ ATTTE-MTiC^^0~TvHJlWWICW4\ GREAT ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN - 4,^rNlN^HE EAR fStURE^LLtScW . that the money from the sale Iw*w thatcoin purse andgiCct he OF STOCK WOULD FOLLOW SOON COINS THE FREEDOM OF YOUR POCKET. AND FOR US pLT OUT twE MEANTIME DON T MENTION y AT LEAST 5100.000 FOR i ThiS LITTLE INCIDENT TO MRS NE3D ( \ ADVERTISING IMMEDIATELY _ \t MIGHT EXCITE HER AND SHE LL J _——-t- L CATCH THE GUYING FEVER j—^ ‘ Barney Google and Spark Plug SPARKY GETS FOREWARNING. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck ^ w * ° (Copyright 1924) "raxe a Good look at This moose, sparky ' WHEN WE GO UP To CANADA NEXT WEEK ON OuR HUNTING Trip youll SEE « LOT MORE CT EM AND You BRINGING UP FATHER u. JtSZlSLr'Si Drawn for The:.°-aha Bee by McManu* [e»Y COLt_v: i r-v L