New Britain Herald Newspaper, December 6, 1928, Page 16

o o A B . CHAPTER L¥ In her own room her old-fashion- ed “telescope” lay open on the floor, for she was packing already for t| trip. The white kid gloves that Emmy had given her on her forty- fifth birthday lay on her dresser in a wheet of dark blue tissue paper to keep them from turning yellow. “git down, Emmy," she said. “I'm trying to sew a new lining in my hat”” She threaded her ncedle, “ holding It up to the light. “I had such a dream about you last night while I was taking forty winks downstairs in the big chair,” she went on murmuring while the kngMed Rep thread and picked up the, Retybj¥y” 'old- hat from the lit- tle stand betwecn the windows. “Tt woke. @e up—it was 50 dreadful — and J asked Ropb to run down to Rurkhardt's to telephone you to sec it you were all right. I seemed to see you standing on a high preci- pice, Emmy, and 1 was so afraid you'd fail before I could get to you. . . . You're sure that everything's all right with you?” She locked up at her sharply. “Why, of conrse, “Don’t be foolish, Mother, just cause yon happened to have nightmare.” Then she stopped. “But T do need some advice.”. -whe confessed, drop- . ping-down on her knees beside her .mot! chair, “You remember Mr. Harbisofi, of course, don't Yon We've talked him over—and you'vs seea: Btar-and—" She searched for worda, gulped once or twice, and then blurted out the truth: “Mother, he wants me to marry him!" Mra. Milburn stuck her needle into the hat. laid it back upon the stand, and folded her hands on her lap. Then she nnfolded them and laid them on Emmy’s shoulders. “Hmm—-"she mused, looking down deep into the girl's eyes. “And Fmmy nodded, he- a what do you want me to tell you to/ do, my dear “I want you te tell me what te @o, of courss.” Her face was full of trouble and perplexity. “Well, you know what to do with- out asking me, don't you? Mrs. Mibura. asked, very. softly. ‘‘When X fell in love with your father I . knew that the only thing to do was te marry him. I didn’t need any- body's advice in the matter, a though T must say T got quite a lot of it without asking. 8o T always made up my own mind that when my ewn children wanted to marry 1 was goirg to try to see things through their eyes—" “Yes, but wait & minute! - This “‘n't @0 simple as you think,” Emmy broke in upon her. “Wells Harbi- son is—Mother, he’'s married now, vou see. But he wants me to wait until he divoreas his wife and then marry him. That's why I've come to you for advice. I don't know what T ought to say to him.” There was deep silence in the ( room for a minute or two, broken only by the loud ticking of Charlie Milburn's gold watch that hung on the wall beside the dresser. Then Mrs. Miiburn spoke, and her pretty voice sounded tired and heavy: “Well, Emmy, all J can say is that & man who won't be truc to one woman won't be true to another, and that's & fact. He hasn't been . fair_and square with you, has he? INg Aréund with you, coming to i3 4 having & wife: tucked ! ‘sway sffsewhere all the time. . . . " And, ff you come betweem a man and his wife—that's what you would ¢ be doing, Emmy—you'll pay for it, sure as Fate!” * "Emmy flushed and scowled. “T didn’t come between him and his ‘wife, becauss it wasn’t until yester- day that T eVen knew he had a wife. And by that time I was too crazy abéut him to tell him I wouldn't see him any more.” She sighed, thinking of Wells Harbison and the queer mixed feeling she had for him. A feeling that was more ex- citement than happiness. “This comes,” Mrs. Milburn said, “of yqur living by yourself with no cne to look after you and watch over you properly. A married man rever would have dared to come into thig house for you! But in that flat alone, as you were—— 1 tell you, Emmy, it wasn't right! A girl has no business living alone like that. T knew it from the first, and T should have set my foot down harder than T did! I can see it now."” Emmy, her pointed little chin resting on the window sill, gazed down Into the strect where the three McMylers, a little bigger but just as | for an old school fricud of mine. | hest dirty as they always had been, play- | Do you remember my speaking of | rises from the boulevard near ed hop-scotch, “That's silly — to talk about a girl living alone. she said after a little, and thousands of girls today, and nobody thinks anything of it. Times have changed since fou were a girl. you kow.' “Times never will ehan women, Emmy, as long don't change. They'll always wanting a woman to say ‘Yes' when she ought to say 'No.' That is. the bed Pho e S Emmy furned and looked her with a question in her “Are you sure | ought to s to Wells Harbison " Mrs. Milbirn nd shook her head ion “My Tiere I longer talk like this!’ know perfectly well wh to say to him — a man wife of his own! To ) danghter could «ven tile him——" She <hook her more vigorously than hefore Another long silence. Then Emimy spoke again: “But his wife doecn’t really loye Tim, Mother, and she docsi’t nnder- «tand him at all. She's one of fhose women who practically forget fhicir Tushands when their firet Labics come along. She has her she doesn't want Wells that way Mother,” “Thousands live alone for s men up at eves, Not sot her little in sheer exas It goodness, Emmy, T can't sit and listen to vou ericd. “You vou ought who | k conside she my man head aby and v 3 E 1 for ever g0 long without him the type that wonld « him forever, so long lome and plenty of money for the ehild. That mathor-tvne, Fasay She was quoting Wells Harbison. be | atmost word for word. “And how do you know so much about her, and the type she is?” Mrs. Milburn's voice was keen and sharp. “You've never have you?” “I'm taking Welis Harbison's word for the kind of woman she is." sald Emmy. simply. “I've figured 1t |out this wa wouldn't have stopped and turned to me. And he must love ne a very great deal or he, wouldn't want to go to the bother of divorc- ing her so he could marry me, would he?” “And when arc you going to tell | him @l this that you've figured our for yourself?” asked her wmother, “The first time 1 sec him. and that will be tomorrow night!” Em my answe spirited T wanted plenty of time fo think n over and to falk it over with you—- hut 1 can see my way now. And 1 {and mine king to any sill | old-fashioned idvas about marriages lasting forever.” “There's only one kind of riage, Emny, and it's as old-fash- ioned as love ifself—and it lasts forover, like love.” Mrs. zot up and laid the rusty old I hat away upon the closet though she had not even hegun sew the new lining into it. She cov- ered it with a sheet of tissue paper as though she were laying it away for-a:long time. “I know what that dream of mine meant. now,” she said; “that dr where T saw you standing on the edge of a high eliff. . That's just where you are standing, Emmy. On the very brink of a danger, ack was a kind of wail as back into the bedroom Emmy tossed her she furned lovely head, with its deep, shining waves of raw gold Rair and its proud filt. “Ol Mothee, aren’t you silly, henest] she exclalmed. v stars! What possible danger can 1 be in? Wells Harhison ;vants to MARRY me, and T don't see anything very danger- ous about marriages—especially love made in “heaven, vou kno jumped up from the floor she had been sitting. “Some of them are and some of them aren't”” Mrs. Milburn an- swered, gravely. “Amd would it be a love marriage, anyway? Does a man who can forget his wife and child so easily know anything about love? And aa for you, Emmy, T can see with half an eye that you're not really in love with your Mr. Harbison. You're just with him, and She where sometimes you can hardly tell them apart.” % CHAPTER LIT | When Emmy had dropped a light, careless kiss upon the top of her | head and run do¥n the stairs her | mother stood for a long time in the middle of the shabby old room where her three children had been born. Her thoughtful eyes were fixed upon the faded rug at her fect, as it she were reading something in | the pattern of it. | Then presently she knclt and be- gan to unpack the “telescope” bag. | 8he laid all the neatly-folded cothes | back 1Hto the dresser drawcrs ~and st her’one pair of extra shoes in the closet upon the floor. She put | the white kid gloves back into a | green satin glove box that had stood | upon her dresser for a good many | years. Then she shoved the bag. it- self, under the bed with her foot. The door of the clothes closet that had always been her chapel and her sanctuary stood open. She closed it gently behind her when she stepped inside and got down upon her knees on the unpainted floor. When Emmy walked out onto the porch of the little house Lovey's car | was just turning into the driveway. | It stopped in the crunching gravel and Lovey hailed her: “Hello, Perfcct Stranger! Where | have you been latcly? I thought you | were going to ask us all over to your flat again for a house warming or some sort of celcbration! . You're a little four-flusher, laret” you | seen her, He must have been | very, very unhappy with her or he | loving her | v. “I told him | don’t see why T should spoil his life | mar- | Millairn | helf, ar- | to | You're in danger, Emmy.” Her voice | had promised | Knuekles marriages. They always may they're | infatuated | But Emmy shook her head. “No, thanks,” she said, faintly: thanks, Robb. I'd rather wal think.” She wanted to be alone to think things out. Would it be wise to see Wells Harbison's wife? . Per- haps it would. As things were it was hard for Emmy to realize that he had a wife. “I guess 11l sce at her, anyway, and find whatashe's ik she decided, g0 and take a look- out and Harbisen, who would be much like Lovig. Little and blond and beauti- fully dressed, mann nd a string of real pearls. That would be Daisy Charteris Har- bison. The verv namc sounded friv- olous. “Please et me dri Robb was pleading cd to wou sines Hector was a were pup. Come on, be a sport and come along 11l het you're *d to be seen in the struggle- you home.” haven't talk- pup— Al ashamed of heing seen in it ¢ jumped into it and they away from the honse. s old place looks pretty slick, doesn’t it ™ tobh asked. when they had left Flower street behind. “1'd he perfectly contented now if you were in it, Emmy." Emmy's pitving smile was as cruel 4 “Well, 'm not, and 1 never will be, Robh." she told him, with decision, “Ty the fime another May rolls around T shall probably be in a house of my own ing seriously of getting 1 may as weil know it —and you may as well take this back. Didn't von gay 1 was to wear it only untit ¢ to marry another a sneer. man 2" She slipped the cheap little gar- net-and-peagl ring from her engage- ment finger and held it out to him, She Saw him glance at it, start, and then grip the wheel until his whitened. He hesitated for a long moment bLefore he took if, and dropped if info the pock:t of his stained overals “Who's the man, Emmy?” he ask- ed quietly, “That bird you work * Emmy told him nd you well know the worst, first g last, TRobb. He's married and he's going to get a divorce to mi me, You think thal's terrible, don't you? Mother docs. She says that dream she had last night a warning!™ She laughed, but all at once was she to hurt Robb, as she knew she was s a sensitive child, . She found hersclf wanting to her arms around him and tell not to mind. “Youll find some other Robb.” She laid her hand op his for a sccond. “And you're making 50 much money now that you can give her a diamond instead of my garnct maybe. Youll forget me, don’t you know you will?" Instead of answering, Robb ask: her a question. “Are you sure you're sure?” He looked straight at her with his brown, honest eyes that never hid anything—never pretend- ed anything. “Of course, I'm sure,” said Em- my; “and I'm sure I'm going to be happy with him, too, if that's what you're getting at, He's just as good to me as he can be, He's crazy about my voice, and he gives me the most wonderful things every time he comes to see me, and takes me for long, lovely drives in his car—the one you sow that Sunday when he drove down to Flower street.” Robb nodded. “Yes, that was a §0od car,” he said dryly. Then, after a minute. himself, though? Emmy laughed and flicked paint-staincd sleeve disda with her long piano fingers. “Well, he never would be scen wearing a thing like that, for instance,” she said, cuttingly. “He's very well dressed and elegant, and he reads a lot of high-brow books, and he's never known what it's like to be poor. 1 care for him in a very dif- ferent kind of way from the way 1 used to care for you. Robb. I— girl, But what's his nfully She giggled, and came running up | to her, catching her by the arm and giving her a kiss. “But Tll| forgive you, just so vou won't think | T'm Hard-hearted Hannah, and usk | you to a tea I'm having tomorrow | Daisy Harbison? 1 think her or something, didn't yon?" She frowned, trying to remember. Hut {Tier memory, like her mind, was as hallow as a brook. | “Emm rted violentl | Marbison! Yes, 1 reme King of her to mr ame was Ch knew her 8 sc Knew | “Daisy | You told m« teris when you nd that she had { married nan named Harbison. | Tsn’t that the girl you mean she asked on a shrill upward note. | Tovey nodded her head briskly. | | “Yes, that's the one. She's Mrs, | We Harbhison now, There picture of her on the society in this in Europe for perfee vol was pa She's heen s and she's going to be here in town for a week S morning’s paper, ) M her threecinel heet and started oft down the driveway to the greon back yard Per- ry nting v his ladder and Lis pails and brushes. “FFour o'cloc tomorrow, Eniy show up: 1 want you to sing dar- |ling oblh came "her <honlder. dor np in e that smelled o ore b is bl Bauhed with white How paint | s dips moved, Tto understand what fo her. But she conld h it Vs voic s She's Mr saving Wells Wells now Iarbison l What he was | von Tl he olad 1o take n the strugele-higgy you per your | ¢ look up to him. He secms wonder- ful to me.” Awkwardly she tried to put into words the thing that she did not understand, herself There was a long paus fhe struggle-hugey did its te clinih the little valiant hill that St. and strove, at the side of Clair street and finally the road. Robh sat back in his seat glowered at its old-fashioned hood. Well, you!” he addressed it after a e seconds. “Vou're just like T am. aren’t you? You just don't quite wake the grade, do you?" 1is voice was filled with bitterness as he lsaned forward and released the cmergeney brake. The struggle- hugey slid back down the hill into the park Robh stepped on the gas and made a second dash at the little hill, This time the struggle-huggy over the sped around the cor- ner to Emuiv's apartment o 4 stopped neatly and nois the door “IIl take you upstairs W Tobly said, “1 “hourd painter. 1t panted stopped and ton ding be- to yvour like a tut 1 look “tis true, Tec Registered Pharmacist In charge of C. W. Brainerd. formerly of (lark & Brainerd T TaIr had a mental vision of a Mrs. Wells with finishing-school | I next day, was very close to tears. It hurt her hurting him. Robb, who seemed so infatuation can be |Indifferent and stoic, but who was 80 much like the Real Thing that |casily wounded as while | have a nice open face and they might let me walk through the lobby with you——" He tried to laugh, but the sound that came from his throat was the dismalest of sounds. “No, thanks, I'll just run along. Don’t you bother about me,” Em- my said, and got out of the little car, with its absurd mud. guards that hung down like & hound's ears. She stood in her own doorway and watched it bound away and ish down the bill into the deep twilight of the park. It seemed to her that she was let- ting ‘Robb go out of her life for good, this time, and she was filled with a keen sense of loss. He was her best friend anywhere, she told herself, mournfu:ly, and she never expected to care for anyone again quite as she had cared for him once upon a time. A warm tide of feeling swept over her as she thought of that long-ago time. She never had felt toward Harbison as she had felt Robh Hollis. Never. Well, everyone said that first love—Ilove with the bloom on it — was the best kind. And she had giv- en him that. She had given him the hest of herself, hadn't she, then? She started up the stairs, and ail the way to the top she thought — not of the man she was to sec the nut of Itobh Hollis, “There was something 1 ought to ells toward [ have said 1o him.” she kept think- S0, just to prove that she was not | ing all during the evening while she “did” her nais and washed ont her best chiffon stockings for the party the next afternoon. “I ought to have told him that T loved him best—while T did care for- him. 1 should have said something com- forting to him-——" Just as she was dropping off to sleep she was staitled into wakeful- ness by a sudden feeling that had lost something of great valur She wanted to get up and look for it. . . . But what it was that ghe had lost she could not remember. Then, just ax she was falling asleep again he did remember. Tt was the ring. The pearl-and-garnet ring that she had given back fo Robb. who had given it to her five months bhefore in the kitchen of the little yellow house, CHAPTER LIIT Sinclair Milburn's father and mother lived in a huge white house far out on aclid Lgyond the smoke and roar of city. 1t had a front door that opened upon a wide and beautiful terrace, but it was hardly ever used. For practicaily evervone who came to see the Sinclairs came in motor cars that stopped with a rush at the side door. On Saturday afternoon Emmy made up her mind to be extravagant and take a taxicab to the house se that she, foo, conld stop with a rosh at the side door and. enter the house that way. As she came rolling up under the porte-cochere and stepped ont to pay her driver, she saw with a start that Wells Harbison's roadster was parked at the end of the driveway near the six-car garage. And on the seat, where she, herself, had sat so ofton, was a child's toy— a great white plush teddy bear dressed in a red velvet suit, Instantly she knew that it be. longed to his little boy. Evidently he had taken the child driving with hiim —the child and the teddy bear, Perhaps his wife had gone with them. . . 1t had been hard right long for Emmy to realize that he had a wife and a child, but the sight of the teddy bear brought it straight home to her. He belonged to them. And what was it he had said to her not 80 very many days before? . . . “I've never felt so ‘at home' with anyone in my life as 1 do with you, Emmy.” That was what he had said! And he had meant it when he said it, too. Emmy was certain of that. She stepped into the wide, cool hall of the house. Beyond it was a room of white-panelled walls, gay chintzes, and so many rugs and picture frames and vases that it looked a great deal of the interior decorator who furnished it for Mrs. Sinclair. Mrs. Sinclair adored it, however, and told everybody that it was “so cozy for such a Masonic hall of a place.” Tt was filled with the cheerful sound of talk and teacups when Emmy walked into it. Blue veils of cigarcttc smoke hung in it, and at three tables at one end of the room women were playing contract bridge. A group of a dozen or so sat around the flower-filled fire- place, where Marianna was help- ing Lovey pour tca and pass sand- wiches. At the piano In the sunny alcove a red-haiced woman in green silk was singing that her “heart was like the singing bird.” There was noth- ing lark-like about her voice. Emmy looked around for Wells Harbison's wife, and while she was making up her mind that she must he a very handsome woman fin pearls and black chiffon who sat near Marianna, Lovey saw her and called out to her. « “Why are you standing there like a goop, darling?” asked Tovey, vho hurt people’s feelings a dozen times a day with her sharp tongue and never realized that she did 1t Come along over here—1 want yon to meet Daisy Harbison.™ And then Emmy found herself <haking hands with a small woman Tovey the had went | {Trown in a plain brown linen dress, whae sat behind a smokirg table, but who was not smoking -a who seemed fo he curiously out of Place in the crowded, ornate room full of chattering. over-dressed girls. She was a little woman with clear. placid blue eyes and a sweet mouth. She had taken off her hat and her air was parted in the mid- Al and smoothed lack like folded wings, i “Why, she looks like Mother! She just the way Mother must Kave looked when she was young:"” thought Emmy. with an odd sinking 1of her heart did. She looked |almost exactly like a photograph of | Mrs. Milhirn in the old album at Lome—a pictire taken at the time of her disastrons marriage. i » | Love il introducing them. murmured sonething abont order- g somie fresh tea and then trotted 1w You're T Wells Harlison's | 1ooks She res sister, then” said making room for Evuny on e safa heside “I've been Teacing all ahout Perry from lovey, and I think he must she | Heights | yet | like the shop ! woman | her. | be a very nice person.” “He is.” Emmy could hardly speak. Her throat seemed to be fill. ed with some kind of dry, red-hot fluff that choked her. This woman whom she was prepared to dislike— this woman whose mortal enemy she was—not only looked like Mrs. Mil- Lurn, but she had the same kind of voice. Gentle, low, and unburrying as a lullaby. “I've a little boy who draws pic- tures, myself,” she was saying, in that lovely, famillar voice. “He's cnly three, but he’s quite an artist. already.” Aw she spoke her eyes brimmed with the look of mother tenderness that Emmy had seen in her own mother's eyes %0 many, many timen. Marianna swung aréund on her chair. “Hello, old bean!" she greet- ed Emmy. “Come over here and I'll give you four fattening sandwiches and crcam and sugar in your tea. 1t slays my soul to sce how thin you are all the time, Emmy Milburn. How DO you manage it?" Emmy just siniled at her and took her plate and cup. She set them down upon the smoking table and turned back to Wells Harbison's wife. His wife! My baby's been very ill” she was going on. “I've had to stay in | Switzerland with him br two yeure. He's been having that wonderful | sunlight treatment. you know, and it's just brought him back to life. He was just as sick as a baby could be and still live. . . . All around them the frivolous talk {went on—talk of golf at White ul- "phur Springs, and uneven hem lines (for the new spring dresses, and { Paton hats, and Chanel perfumes, fand dances, and charity teas. ‘mmy shook her head. “For two vears,” she repeated, thinking of a small, sick body strapped to a bea day for hundreds of days and id in a glass-roofed room under the sun. . . . Somewhere or other she had read about the Alpine sun- light cure, “How awful for you,” she said to the small woman {n brown linen. be away from home for two and worried to death about your baby all that time besides.” “It was worse for my hushand, of conrs answercd the gentle voice, “because, after all, 1 had the bahy—and he was all alone —with- out us——" A shadow crossed her face, and she stared down at the smoking table with eyes that seem- ed to be trying to figure out some- thing on ity mother-of-pearl top. “It’s a dreadful thing for a family to be teparated.” she murmured, more to herself than to Emmy: “for a woman to be away from her hus- band. That's what I told lLovey— about staying away from Perry. 1 Know," nmy waited to hear no more. She felt like a traitor d a thief sitting here beside this gmall, plain woman, who looked Ife her mother and had her mother's voice, Who wore her mother's look of mingled sweetness and sorrow and dismay. “Sh knows. about me. . . . At lcast, she knows that there's an- cther woman who cares for her hus- nmy told herself with cen. viction. “I've got to got awgy!” she decided. desparately. “I can’t stay here any longer.” “Say good-bye'.to Lovey for me. I've got t6 go — something impor. | tant.” ehe stammered to Marianna, | as she got up. She couldn’t epeak to Daisy Harbison again. “Aren't.you going to sing?" she heard Marianna call to her as she started away. Without looking back. she shook her head. 8he never had i felt less like stnging in her life. It was almoxt a mile from the Sinclairs’ house to the nearest car line, But Kmmy never remembered a step of her walk through the dust and glare of the hot spring. after- noon. She sat in a corner of the street car, with her head bowed and {her hat pulled down over her eyes all the way back to town. 8he could not think clearly. but she quivered ial over with a sense of shame and | scie-disgust. It was half-past five when she ran up the two flights of stairs to her own apartment., 8he had left u note on the mat outside the door for Harbison, telling him that she would be there at six, and asking him to wait for her. 8he had signed it: “With love—Emm: Tt was still there. 8he picked it up as she unlocked the door and tore it into tiny bits. As she did it a memory flashed into her mind— the memory of her mother on a far-away Sunday afternoon, when she had torn up the letter that a girl named “Impy” had written to, Charlie Milburn! S&he remembered the look on her mother's face ‘hat day—a look of sweetness and sor- row and dismay. The look of a faith- ful woman who is married to an un- faithful man and loves him. (TO BE CONTINUED) R S S ST S, ! Genuine “Old Company’s Lehigh Coal” | THE SHURBERG : COAL 0. Phove 2350 88 Franklin &t i | ---Are You | Driving Your Car l| 'This Winter? Then come in and fet us put your laditor in “Tip Top” shapo— Chains 100 repaired. Be ready when the icc and snow come. DO YOU NEED— CHAINS? ALOOHOL? At Lowest Prices Gordes Auto Supply | 19 EAST MAIN Telcphone 8111 WIFE WITNESSES BIGAMOUS UNION Stands Beside Husband as He Weds Music Pupil New York, Dec. 6 (P—Herbert old, J. Leigh-Manuelle, 36 years church organist and music teacher. induced his wife to witness his mar- riage to a 19 vear old pupil and to- day was being held without bail in the Suffolk county jail charged with bigamy. Mrs. Leigh-Manuelle, remained at their West meanwhile, Sayville., Long Isiind, home taking care of | while Miss their three young sons, Marths Van Wyen, his newest bride, was at the home of her par- cnts in the ncighboring Bayville, Wed 13 Ycars The Leigh-Manuclics have marricd 13 years. Mrs. Leigh-Man. uelle explained to police that she became aware last summer that her with his | but when she found | husbund wi infatuated young pupil, herself unable 1o cheek this she re- signed herself to the situation. At the pequest of her husba she called at the Van tha could accompany her to a de; tist in New York. was readily granted and at the sta tion they were joined by Manuelle. village of been ! Wyen home yesterday’ and usked whether Mar- | The permission Leigh- —_—————, e where he is organist at 8t. Ann's Episcopal church. He rcfused to discuss the matter, OUTLINE DEVELOPMENT FOR NEW ENGLAND Plan Calls for Wide Improvements In Boston and City's Harbor Facilities, Boston, Dee. 6 (UP)—A develop- ment propject, which would entail an expenditure of §30,000,000 to $40,000,000 and have as its major purpose the booming of New Eng- {lapd’s business and industry, was cutlined here last night. Officiuls of the Boston Port De- velopnient company, sponsoring the projgt. discussed the plans at ing attended by Mayor Malcolm Nichols, lcgislators, members of the city council and representative ens. The project would inelude: Establishment on the East e of Boston 1 bor of a “frec port of Boston" to scrve as a “foreign” port outside the protective | tariif wall. 2. Construction of new piers, Unification of railroad lines. [ university |5 Creation of a port cillage, con- taining thousands of homes 6. DBuillding of a larger vehiculur tunnel, nw estimated that three to five years would be required to conmplete | the proj No mention was made |as to how the development e financed. g wnere-a e wus-token | BEERY MUST APPEAR out and later Leigh-Manuelle Miss Van Wyen were married the Marble Colegiate church Mra. Leigh-Manuelic as a witness. Two Wives Leigh-Manuelle with . wives ghen returned to where the second Mrx. uelle his dected father, fo ‘the Cornellus Van Wyen, store keeper, struck Leigh-Manuelle | appear in court had dis- | the role into his home. After he was re. this a in the face, A brother then him arrested on a charge of orderly conduct. leased under $250 charge he was charge of bigamy. The Leigh-Manuelles had living in West Sayville 10 year bail on rearrested on and at with | heen | Villain of Movie Screen Charged two Sayville Letgh- Man- prepared to gather her be- longings. Her parents, however. ob- With Being Villain in Life By Wife Los Angeles, Dec, 6 (M —Noah marriage and her | Reery, villain of the motion picture a | screen foday was under summouns to and auswer the harge of his wife that he earrie Mrs. Reery filed suit yest for divorce, charging cruclty. Superior Judge Bishop ordered the screen actor to appear in court ay af Ablishment of an industrial | | made would | IN COURT TODAY| | requiring mechanically operated fire doors on torneys aiid an sliewance fer Dder support pending trial of the case. Mis. Beery's suit charged that ber husband “abused, choked, struck and threatened” her. In a Sam Francisco hetel, Mrs. Beery charged, her husband threw her to the floor and choked her. On another oc- casion, she said. he struck Ler, brandished a pistol and threatened to kill her. - His conduct on numer- ous occasions was described by his wife as “brutal and threatening.” Beery was accused of having told fellow actors that his wife “was @ little insane.” 3 Beery denied all the allegations. He said the divorce action was the result of *too much money and too any people to help her spend it. Certainly T have never been guilty of the things she chargds me.” Mrs, Beery asked for a share of her husband's community property, which was listed at $300,000. She also asked for the custody of the 15-year-old son, Noalh Wilbur Beery, The couple was married in Boston in 1910, and separated In 1827, Disappearance May Be Solved in Pa nton, Pa, Dec. 6 M — The ppearance of Harry Quinm, 20, from his home at Minooka, near this in March, 1924, may be cleared up in the statement said to have been vesterday by Peter Kudzine owski to fhe police in Detroit, Mich. that he killed Quinn hera in 1924, No trace of Quinn has cver been found. Kud. authoritie S nowski said to the Detroit according to dispatches veceived , that he killed Quinn in a quarrel over a hottle ofwhiske: Minooka authorities said 'a man known as Peter Kudzinowski, allay Roy Rogers, alias Ray Lambert, had hved in Minooka four yeurs ngo and that he was a friend of Quinn who lias cight brothers and sisters living in Mincoka. WANT FIRE DOURS Washington, Dec. 6 (#—An inter. state commerce commission’ order railroads to. install all locomotives by January 1, 1931 was recommended today by come mission agents who have investigate ed the subject. The doors achanically soperated fire s0 arranged that pressire | | en a lever opens them to enable new fuel to be shoveled under the boiler, December 14 to show cause why he [ I'he orger would apply fo all types hould not pay fecs to his wife's at- | of locgmotives fired with coal. . | . et a Perfection —an ideal Christmas gift i HAT am I going to give for Christmas this year?” . . . Don'’t let this puzzling question bother you this Christmas. Get a Perfection room heater . . . a gift the whole family will enjoy . . . Just the thing for dressing and shaving on cold mornings . . . for bathing the baby . . . for reading in comfort on blustering evenings . . . A heating plant you can carry from room to room . . . Safe and economical because it burns Socony Kerosene. Stop in at your dealer’s today. Look over the wide line of Perfection models, including the New Fireligh® heater. PERFECTION Room Heaters STANDARD OIL COMPANY OF NEW YORK