Sterling Standard from Sterling, Illinois on October 8, 1928 · Page 8
Get access to this page with a Free Trial

Sterling Standard from Sterling, Illinois · Page 8

Sterling, Illinois
Issue Date:
Monday, October 8, 1928
Page 8
Start Free Trial

ftf hor rMM, enUM* «f MR Craig brirsr^ lit* nftwrwwm »«?i- t*wv pnMfthinjr »« tnt*rr!»w with fcwMK to K.TbH. who Is playing aRMmff the IMTW with HHI« Twl- «Jv. As She,? talk m»lt*M «**fr, n "I? y«i« <r-!*flk that ll«t him, "I'll swst srtrf «"v»rT hftn with H," H to *mlth?T- In *«<ir IwMly NOW GO ON WITH THE 8TORT. CHAPTER Xlr. Thr nhotographrr grinned good- naumxlly. "It's nil in »he day's work. Mr. Ncwhali. It's rny bread and butter, poppma off ro'ebntics and citai- mnls and such. But thf job's not v. orth !hr rhanci? in ft case like i his. i should of !«krn yo\i from thr Mrrri. ami asked questions nMrrward. I'm John Dumb for surf " HP Miiflfd. Ills caoitra to the o'htr hand, raised his hat pleasantly. and took himself o. Then lie skirted around back wsys, approached the house from the side, and succeeded in getting a picture that W.HS subsequently captloned: "Thorne Home Where Lovely Bride Remains Virtual Prisoccr." Tad brought home more papers ^. hen he came to dinner, and the family council that evening was divided between wrath and moans. Sybil put her mother to bed with a sedative, and Craig mixed cock* tails lor medicinal purposes. "You shouldn't have started it. 8ib," complained Tad. "She's been right nil through," defended Valerie, stoutly. And Craig, his face flushed d*rk- ly. was ominously silent. In the nursery, when she crept hi to kiss Teddy good night, Sybil found her mother, crying softly. "Tliant God." she sobbed brokenly, "your poor father didn't live to see this day." The injustice of It hurt Sybil more than any of them knew. Bitterly resentful, .she scorned defense. "if they weren't blind as bat*." she told herself fiercely, "if they werrn t too selfish to think of anyone but themselves, they couldn't blame me .so. Infatuation isn't a sin. It isn't wrong to MARRY a man. I didn't do anything wicked . . . and you'd think I was a moral leper!" Fiercely she crushed and tore the newspapers and ground them on the floor beneath her heels. "Oh. it isn't fair. It isn't fair!" » K • Next morning there were more stories, and an entire page In the Boston Telegraph devoted to pictures. . . , Sybil in a swimminc .sun. Sybil "in a ball gown. Sybil at the Horse Show In a riding abit. . . . An old photograph of Craig Irom the Harvard Year Book, j . . . Richard Euslls "especially I povjd (or the Boston Morning Telegraph," . . . And a picture of Valeric, sweet nnd lovely in her •wedding gown. . . There were photographs of the "palatial home of the Thornes." and their summer place at-Wifttiiio. "Oh my God!" Groaned Tad. Valeric surveyed the heap of papers distaitefully. "I v.ouldn'l look at them," she sitid. and pushed them away. Thin the Gazette's red headlines caught her eye "Crandon!" :.he cried. "Oh. Sib. look!" Across the top in glaring headlines meat for Gazette readers. "Sybil Thorne Psycho Analyzed," screamed the crimson lype. An<l below, in smaller letters, "PRIMITIVE KGO MAKES TROUBLE FOR BOSTON' GIRL ~ "Science Explains Emotional 1'nrest Of Society Women "i'laudf Crandon Contributes Searching Analysis of Mental Cflnflki Then followed the stary: "Claude Crandon. Boston's foremast psycho-analyst, interviewed last evening by a reporter for the GAZPU-. threw new light on the senational EUS.US divorce case. Dr. Crandon, well versed in psycho, discussed at length the so-called 'Primitive Ego' of Mrs. Richard Eustis. better known HS Sybil Thorne. Mrs. Euitis. according to the doctor, is lhf> victim of her own ego. "In order to put the case plainly before the lay mind. Dr. Cran- rimi has prepared the following statement exclusively for readers of the Gazette: ..." Valerie held the piijiw ;n both her trembling hands, and read aloud in a high pitched voice. Shrill words tumbled, ojue over another, from "he* Iuu'nlifc4 lips. With nn oath Tad clutched the paper from her shaking fingers. "Here, let me t*e it. The old — nay God. I'll kill him for this, Sybil! The obscene old trout! . . ." Mrs. Thorne, before the great silver coffee service, cowered ilk* a tightened ihm«. "Did tie &ay." sJie quavered P't- eou&3y, '•auyitoi&if — • anything — about — the-— the— about Sybil's love T«4 scanned ttie column. " -Ijpve lift' — well, I'M be — He certainly did- £$y, M». how much of m» siuf did you tpi»r Ta4 tum&a luriouAiy oa his "Oh» fsit«red, sod her i h*ipl«**ly. I'm so sorry. m right, in, R mlitw*," Tf.d Hf?/*?1. |^»r I*B thf* Tprf « child, arid VA!»TI*» pi!!r>^* sn-rt a foot, *fof-L R ttyy lift-! ttiKl! 8 her t.h'V irif-d to fns.k*? h^r Isuiffo, "Can't TO?} «»* sehsit ft Jok* it. !»?" dprnsrid^rt 8tbU. "The msn n»v*>r SBW me in hi.i life. He dotsn'l know R thins *bout wf. really. l,»t. m* rpmfj il to you, fjssr, I*',* sUtiply 9. But Mrs, Thorn* wawl away the t lurid shwt with h?r httl* flutter- j ing, blue-veined hands. "Oh, plwuwt," she b*>R$5«H!, "plp-ftsc ! That dreadful, dreadful man! What I can I do?" Tad stood on the h?«r',h rug with his fefl wide *p«rt, and his hands plunged in his pocket?. "1 guess. Ma." he predicted gloomily, "you'll have to take up church- Itolnff. Ministers are a pood. Mfe lot—though they may be a bit dull. But Ihese quacks—gosh, Ma, you'll simply have to lay off." Valerie drew .the purple Afghan closer about hfr mother-in-law'.-, narrow shoulders. "Poor Mother Thorne!" sh* whispered, and kissed the soft gray hair where the part lay pink and broadest. "Tad's Joking, dearest." Sybil glanced nt the watch on her wrist. •Eight-thirty!" she cried "And court, begins at nine. We'll have to hurry. Do you feel up to it. mother —or had you rather stay right here, and rest?" "Up to it!" Mrs. Thorne put n hand on each arm of the big red chair. "My dear. I feel like a new woman. Do you know what, I'm going to do?" She raised herself to her feet and surveyed her children with quiet dignity. "I'm going to sue that man. I don't know exactly how it can be done, but I'll sec a lawyer today. There must be some law for the protection of a client or patient in confidential consultation. Maybe he is practicing illegally. There will be some way of getting at him. I'll sue him for $100.000 — and attach everything tye's got. He thinks I'm nothing but a neurotic, silly old woman. I'll show him, children!" Laughing,' they crowded about 1 h»r, to pat her shoulders and ktos her faded checks. "Get my hat. Val," she commanded briskly. "It's up on my bed,' dear. And hurry up or we'll all be late!" Everybody, It seemed, was in court' when they reached there. Dolly i Weston rushed up and kissed Sybil effusively. The Moores came to shake hands—Jack and Mabel— quietly confident. j Mrs. West, garrulous and excited, I put -her arms-about-Sybil and peek-ed Mrs. Thorne. Groups of smartly-dressed women bowed when they passed. Girls with whom Sybil had gone to school reached over the backs of the courtroom benches to clasp he; hand. Mrs. Grayson bowed serenely from across the room. There were a great many strangers and a number of intimates. Most of their casual friends had the" good breeding to stay away, but there were a number of women with whom Sybil had a bowing acquaintance. They seemed engrossed with remote objects when Sybil glanced their way. Some of them craned to look out the windows. Others were absorbed in contemplation of the throngs that crowded through the corridors to the court room door, where a court officer in R blue uniform with brass buttons refused further admittance. Reporters at the press tabls asked questions of one another eagerly: "Who's that shaking hands with her now? Mrs. Grayson? Did you see the dame with the lorgnette high-hatting her? Those are Vincent Club girls talking with her now » _JJfly J _th.!s. looks like a iria&s meeting of the Four Hundred. . . . There's Newhall coming in. ,__,...., This may hurt him politically. . . . That's her brother. . . . Well, they're all giving her the glad hand Oh, no. they're not, She's been getting & flock of icy stares Plenty of snubs. I'd say. • • • Pretty tough, isn't it?" Waiting. Waiting. What was the delay? Where was the defendant? The judge, stern in his black gown, frowned and fidgeted. That was a court officer he had beckoned to the bench. There was a whispered conversation The judge — like an old woman digging a handkerchief out of her petticoat pocket — fished in ^the folds of his robe. Glared billiger- fc'ntly at his watch. Re»u>r£d it to his jKWket and settled his heavy skirts modestly about him. Where was Richard? Mr. Peterson leaned tov>'«Ki sy- bil. "Neither your husbami nor his attorney are iiere. The judge may dismiss the case." Commotion in the corridor. Excited whispers. Something liad happened. One felt it in the air of that stuffy courtroom wlwm the (dteot- &wu»yr open and a court officer. IwuhUiyf »t Ms brass buttons, hurried to the judge's bench. The judge leaned forward, eup- Ms ear with his hand. Nodded grmvely and sat for a moment the you couse "Mr. Peterson." Mr. Peterson beucii. "Mrs. Eusiis, will totre, <Wii*t HE* happened? Tragedy Uj ih* iiexi e,Uin>U!r~"tr*«;edy *ii<J a Is* A i^f OUT OUR VOO A HtCrWLM DtV t OF ^^HJiR/^lMe- OUT OF- v. a.M.T. car. OtMt, orJ«M BBMCC, we. GO Mi ! « tf AWA 1 ^ YfcoUsMtA/ t!KB A M¥Ul MAfffeess Ytm, M v l lt£F / •*** I'VE COME TiROM AM OLP UMB OF >fa) € ^ -<Bt ,. OF || || UP (Al MV s Vmlft \ f rr SALESMAN SAM He Should Have One VJCLt. \ DOl. THPTT POOR UTTLS. Sy SiaaU FRECKLES AND HIS FRIEHD8 In An Awful Fix ! WHfvTS ( ftltt'T DOME. I PEA tT COST 7WS AKUCW JUST "TO FEED AM €UEPA,* -MT— R)R AAV!/ 1 7WA&: 7WATS EAT U575 OF IP FOR QrJLV RvJ£NWe6KS ACWMU£> AMOUAJT J2« JLC BE, pop? DCA^RS ) AUTTUs F^ ^~S v*0)X6«E AMI soi/06 6NC AIM FOR. AVK?AY-SEUUWMOR BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES Boot* !• Getting- Flighty By ?Iartia j wo «*t» \T r TVWT 60Y HA* SM5TM CIAO6. tO MM? . _ MOM'N POI Or Alive!

What members have found on this page

Get access to

  • The largest online newspaper archive
  • 11,100+ newspapers from the 1700s–2000s
  • Millions of additional pages added every month

Try it free