J JOE] A By ALEXANl ___ < Conti* n«4 ntm TxtoHir.) Suppet. He began to eat without noticing her. She wandered how he , oould be ravenoue. "What'a the matter! Aren’t you hungry?” Ha had bacoma awara of tha pretense#. ”1 don’t feel vary wall.” "Shaking her. That’a what did for you." Hia mouth opened and a look of reminiscence fixed him. Suddenly , he crouched forward. "She doee hate *’ Aunt Abble.” Ha allot this aut with a kind of Insane Intensity. "We’d better not go Into hating," ;■ Jo Ellen a&ld slowly. "Shs doee. She's begun to hats me. J] It wasn’ that way before. It's since—’’ , j', He stopped stupidly. • "Since you were hurt." I! "Hurt?" His facs contorted. "No. We can say It plain. Since I was married. What's the use of dodging i it? Since I was married. Since ehe I began hating you and you began hat ; ing her. Hating. Everything'# hat ing. if you two could've got along II together. . . Thia would have to go on . . . and she would have to listen. . . . She i couldn’t let It go on. There was no way of stopping the grind of the words. But she could go away. If she stayed—stayed within the reach of it—anywhere but beyoaA the hori zon—her head would go ¥ rang, her eyes would get to look like his. . . . His eyes followed her when she went Into the kitchen. She felt rath er than saw his excitement when he came for a moment to the .door. Afterward, while she rather blindly fumbled with the dishes, she fancied, with nothing to aid tha surmise, that ^,-W lie had gone to hts liquor, wherever r It was. Perhaps the sickening feeling would lift If she could write the line to Stan Lamar. She found paper and an envelope. There was a stamp In her purse. Mat'- ] iy was not In the living room when ahe sought the handbag. She would go out to drop the let l.ler In the mall chute at the very last. Delaying It seemed Ike an assurance , Ithat she had not hurried the step. *Jt hat the thinking out had demanded I Irhe utmost of time. She slipped the j (letter under her blouse. , There was a numb silence through which a drip in the kitchen sounded I piercingly. She went to the sink and lightened the offending tap. Only the i Isound -of the blood Jn her temples re Jnalned. If shs could And Mrs. Simms’ pel lets. . . . Here they ware. But how many should he taken? She sat be side the table looking at the bottle with tha red marks. People had dif ferent sorts of headache. Perhaps there were no pellets for her kind. f New York --Day by Day By o. o. McIntyre. «* Pails. Bept. I.—We sought eut on* ef th* cloistered nook* erf Montmartre today for breakfaet. And drew up in £h* rear yard of an old house which hears th# name Oaf* Coucou. It pro vided an excellent view of Paris. * Hens wer* pecking In th* yard and {here was the constant yipping of the facks of dog# that rov* the district. | m Afterward there was a stroll through ' * {he quarter—viewing th# tiny shop windows abloom with their varying jumble. ’« Pails lives to eat and drink. Snails are the piece de resistance and to see windows of the slimy, crawling things doesn’t whet a ham and egg appetite. Sidewalk vendor# peer* hawking a new fangled needle that pleases the ladies. Manipulating it they may close "runners’ in ailk hoae. Back near my hotel I sought th* ministration* of a barber. It waa a * real solon and the Ion* barber took * pride In hto art. When I asked for l a manicure It wa# quit# a surprise to * b* attended to by a black whiskered ' fellow ef middle age. Bo this Is Parts! ” On th* Rue d* la PaJx—that short * strip of fashl n paradise—one notices that th* skirts ar* shorter than ever ’ before. Th* smartest frock* are only * % {gw inch** below th* knee*. Th* * {|fWu woman ar* th* beat dressed , ft Ri* world and the men the worst. Vh* hangout* for America ns at the ■ BMcboon cocktail hour ar* the Ritz * Aggrteea bar, Harry's New Tork * Rag and Th* Arltona. Th* latter j sieee to run by a Frenchman, and J th* Arisona atmosphere Is provided "to t ton* ehalk drawing of a eow * hoy. I i» th* New Tork bar there Is a { sneer at prohibition in th* state* In ; two signs reading: “Try Our Soofflaw - Cocktail" and "A Drink with a kick— * Try th* Thre* Mil* Limit." Th* us ual crowd of bar file* that graced th* old *orn*r saloon is thsr*. I bought a Psrts Tim** In front of W? N Maxim’* today from a n*w«l« who used to b* stationed at Brooklyn Bridge. H* cam* over on a tramp steamer Just for th* trip and went broke her* thre* months sgo. Now h* is going to stay. He say# h* la aver aging <260 a month sailing newspa per* to Americans* At luncheon In th# Cafe d# Parle wer* two rosy cheeked and plump Frenchmen — evidently twins—and alik* even to th*ir shiny bald heed*. Eaoh bore a legion of honor ribbon in the lapel. They at* exactly th* same dishes in almost perfect unison and not one* did they exchange a word. "Two of th* richest bachelors in Pari*,’’ th* headwaltwr told me. And slyly: "A pair of gay dog*.’’ On* laarnes In Paris tlist “English Spoken Hera” signs often do not mean a thing. In many casts* It Is a mere lur* for th# tourist. I have been trying out my menu French on various unsuspecting Innocents with the usual result—they shrug their shoulders and walk away. » Th* saddest not# In th# world's gayest city la Its army of nympha du pav*. Most of them ar# In their teens. When th# lights com* on they swarm on th* principal avenues toealng en sagtng smirks and suggestive winks to passersby. Their direct approach 1* to ask for a eigaret. Pails mail** no effort to suppress them. Indeed groups of them Indulge in bantering conversations with gendarmes. It Is not unusual for a don# man to be hailed by six or seven In a block. The guides who show yokels the hid den wickedness are also Just aa plan * tiful. They ar# sleek and sell dr«sae,| and with regret one sees thHt half of them ar* young American boys. (Copyright, _LEN JER BLACK., Copyright, 1914. J With arm* upon th* table h*r head drooped. Sho heard him coming. She re fused to move. No. she would not go on. Not a syllable. The wheel# stopped at the threshold. Then the crash through. "O my God!" Shs lifted her head and saw hi# lips working. "Have you taken It?’’ h# screamed. "No, no!” She made a weary ges ture. "I thought—” He was gaxlng at the bottle, ae If reading the largest red word. "My head aches—" shs began. He snatched up the bottle and emptied th* while heap of pellets Into his palm. She could reach the hand that held th# bottle. Th# other hand eluded her. "I got a headache!” Hie vole# broke In a shrelk. Her leap and a sharp blow spilled ths white heap. The little pills pat tered on the floor. "Go on!”—he was sobbing with a strangled hoarseness—"go on! Spy it! Call ms a drunken sot! O my God! Why didn’t you let me take It? A mouthful. Then you’d—” He spun the chair and rolled out through the doorway. She could hear hla throat noises trailing as he moved. Her own sob vented an exhausted compassion. . . . A sound that comes back to the brain some moments after it has hap pened, or perhaps a curiosity kindled by her compassion, set her to listen ing Intently. What was he doing? The living room, th# bedrooms, the passage to th# roof door . . . The roof door was open. She knew this first by the chill of the wind. . . . Wide open. A blade of light showed the wheel chair at the coping. "Marty!” She called as she ran. She knew while she called that the wheel chair was empty. And out of the dark arose something that was not a sound . . . an appalling emanation, as if those space# below were making clamor of a thing for which they had no sound, yet which was rising, rls lng to th# stars. She clutched th* coping for a mo ment . . . No, she could not do that. She could not look down, even Into a dimness that would show her noth ing. She could run with a frantic straightness, through the rooms, over turning a chair, then frees# at the sound of the apartment bell. It was incredibly soon. There hsd been but a few seconds . . . Arnold Pearson. She shrank agalnet th* wall opposite th# door when she had flung It open. He didn't know. You could see by his face that he didn't know. "Marty . . .” She pointed. "From the roof." He uttered a cry. an unintelligible question, as he leaped past her. She stood, her back to the wall, until he returned from th# roof. "Stay here,” he commended. She would stay, stay end listen, walking back and forth for frightful minutes, listening as if voices In the street could rise so high. Soundless voices came, whispering that she was free. Free. That was one of the meanings of thla thing, which In a flash . . . She might have prevented' It. She was the only one there to prevent It, and she hadn't. If ahe had guessed . . . But who could have guessed? Marty! The boy who had sat beside her on ths high place . . . And she was free. A deep boom came from th# river. .Ships. Her hand went to her breast. Th# letter. She took it out. Kaeh minutest Incident of Stan Lamar lushed through her brain with an extraordinary swiftness and clear ness: the tingle of hi* hand In the empty house, th# warm preseure of him under th# dock, the dance, his kisses, the cautious voice, th# shrewd powerfulness thst belonged to a kind of man not at all like Marty. He had taught her about herself . . . fearfully. He had shown her a way to be free. And now she was free without him. He was to have opened for her a dreadful Imprisoning door. Now, suddenly, terrifically, the door stood ajar, without hla hand. Sud denly she saw him as he was . . . She saw herself as she was, with the world widened again, th# world that had b*»en tight, that had seemed to have no one to loosen It but Btan . . . Stan, with whom she had shut her eyes. Now her eyes could be open. Bh# could look straight ... at every thing. She could see that he would have meant escape rather than lib erty. Perhaps It had often been this way with women, when people talked about the lure of th# flash . . . There had been the lure of the flesh. No ue# lying about that. But paarion wanted Its liberty with the right one. with one to whom you could give In finite trust. Looking out from a pris on the utterly right one didn't eeem to matter so much. Now, In the crashing reality of this change, ahe knew that Stan rt-ceded. The shad owe that had alwaye hovered behind him seemed to be swallowing his image. A lightning flash was help ing to ahow what happened. He was no longer the other one. He stood alone . . . And alone he was only Stan I^amar, the truth about whom aha had never wanted herself to know. Not knowing had been part of the thrill, that thrill a* of a man, name less, mysterious, who ahould come out of the dark. Wondering how much of a crook he was belonged with the rebel feeling. Now, when she wss free . . . Real voices, She stole close to fhe outer door once more. “He knew which elde would mean a finish . . . Until the old folks come home." It was the night man. She walked unsteadily away. Arnold Pe-areon saw her standing In the middle of the place, with a stony straightness She was tearing Into amall fragments some white pa per that dropped at her feet like the flakes of a first snow. He did not know why she peered at the litter on the floor. He did not know xvhat the white fragments were spelling for her —through a crimson haste. “Poor Marty!" Fhe nw him gulp, and there were met etreaka on hi* fare. He had been to the street. Tt would be what he had *een that made him look at her that way—at her. the other one who was freed. He rame to her. She would not take the rhalr. He might he thinking that aha would crumple She c ,11 speak to him. She could let the tor rent of the story gush out. If ►he could tell him everything her hard might atop cracking. Everything He would he there when Mi Slmma came back. THE END. THE NEBBS THE FROFITEER. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol He«* ---------. . . __*_ /N'DOwrr VNj&srrSo'rcX !/ MICE. GREEK] CoRni DO ) Voul liCk'SElD it y » \ vwse.lt - picked / \^rr iuvs viopwi n^/^. ... ? /WHKT DOVOU 3S CENTS ?!^ ( AU 'too BEEnJ ASvOn' \s as CENTS r I — Vo MAT ARE VOO TRYING TO DO / N^-ROS Tv4' OTV TOLVCS ? JK(0U MIND NCRXs. Owm E>US*vJE?£. \ EWMlE, GRjontlEV 1 WOUSt-^tUPER -TvaEn MEBSE Noail UERE ft^OVOU - UtWE 50MC*T«^L / ^lNJr GO'M' “to Wo ^PJO^MgET QlCH ROBBW KO^tr^y WhESL peopu Barney Google and Spark Plug BUSINESS BEGINS AT HOME WITH BARNEY. Dr«wn for The B“ by Bill)r D'B'ck ____— - -- -- -pi p—n ■. ■ ■ ii ■ ■ — ' —' - 1 .1 M" I This idea of oioming (mt own barber 'll lun*- make me a fortune. *im gonna i KEEP SPAITK. PCOG IN THE HACK ROOM - HE V Cun keep h«s head Through The Vuinooiu AND I.60K AT The CUSTOMERS AS Tmet pic« J, in! a NOVEITY CIKE THAT WJflC Wow A /[| BIG GATE - AF TER A -_Xl , ' E JOtNT WMT .OCi OPtM Al MC«N'* DA NEM'W’ | I AND fit* TRADE * «*•«■ **° j UmAOOAN* I s pose TH* De^ O®*1 T COM* IN'. , !| I BRINGING UP FATHER _ _ — - - - ... . — - - Ref fatered SEE JIGCS AND MAGGIE IN FULL U. S. Patent Olllce PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus (Copyright 1924) - ■■ ■ ? ■■■■ r1' t»DNT \ TELL YOU MV | COT L COME OH WE'LL train would arrive r J here a*» walk over i AT Tive, ^dCLOCK*> J QUICK A*3 _ WANT TO MOP eiP I t COOLOi - IN AND WC MRS JONETJ oh oor WAV HONE I JERRY ON THE JOB j72_3*-XZ3J © l«24 av Imt t F»atu*h Service U« Graat Bntam fifKta raaarved INSUFFICIENT QUALIFICATIONS. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban (Copyright 1K4) * f 'M0U-* SfetM MVtOrfT / 'pgom wset v*m\\.v mohw, I OM^CUO. MAOATlOfi ■ AMNBt > "Tb OCTCU A ITTfl-V ( fe^njA a*Auee weupwr en ? J W OHvN 1 EJSQ I Cu^eto up a % W < I UOOEtt 1 '■MAS j COMi* y I on1 A ^oop.) How to Start the Day Wrong / Hooj'a That ' P*AR6€. V? 1 \\ ) Tcll THe. UUORV.D U i h thc Pi By Briggs fHC WHAT ~ j Tm« COAL man t ^w-^coal^To , WMAT.FOR ? - TV-115 oUM^XF O* r t / V ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Herthfield Hating a Fin* Tim*, Ete. fNES-LET'S 1 CAUL HIM ! 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