Judge — January 23, 1926 — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

But It’s Nicer to Sleep Alone! “rfury’s1 forgive us after it’s done. have to,” said Ranny. dear—” Cara’s eighteen-year-old eyes, usually so casual and so frank, were hidden by her lashes. “But I’m afraid— “I want to,” she said. afraid—” There seemed something so terribly wrong Even if she and Ranny were married, she was sure that she wouldn't feel « about it all. married, unless there was a reception, and a church and everything. And then they would go to a hotel. ‘ “Ranny,” she cried, urgently, ‘we can’t get married. We haven't any luggage. Any clothes.” Ranny laughed. She had never heard him laugh just that way before. “You won't need any clothes,” said Ranny. “Afterward—" Cara blushed in the twilight darkness, and pulled herself up, so that she sat quite straight, and away from the comfy shoulder. “IT have to have a—a—things,” she “A negligée, at least. Or I won't get marri “T'll buy you one,” said Ranny. where.” And laughed again. “Some- Can the most adoring lover in the world compensate a flapper for a wedding sans even a wedding cake or a negligée? See ‘Wait Till Tomorrow" by Dorothy Dow, in the current issue of SNAPPY Storres. At all newsstands—20 cents. ask wo? | AccomptisHep Musician — How would you like a sonata before dinner, | boy friend? Seconp Mrs. Tanqueray—Fine, but don’t put more than a dash of gin They'll “Cara, dear, je it, will you? What we need is an auto that will count ten before hitting a pedes- trian. ‘Judge pays 85 for each one printed The Counterfeiters I was creeping along on my hands and knees through the inky blackness of that underground cav- ern, alligators slithered over my legs, spiders dropped from the low, damp ceiling and slid down my neck; bats swooped about every- where. I had trailed a gang of desperate counterfeiters to this their hiding place and I did not mean to let them escape. On, on I crawled through a murky slime that came up over my wrists and got my cuffs dirty. I tossed them aside. I could not afford to be seen even in a counterfeiter’s den with soiled cuffs. Suddenly there was a flash of a pistol and its reverberating crash down the long cavern. I felt a sting directly over my heart. I stopped and examined the wound with my pocket flashlight. The bullet had made a clean hole about two inches to the left of my top vest button, but I didn’t mind except that a dark red stain was spreading over my immaculate white vest. I quickly took off the offending vest and tossed it aside, and immediately I felt much better. I crept on. Finally through a chink in the wall I beheld a large underground apartment of five rooms, steam heat, parquet floors, and southern exposure. The rent I imagined must be in the neighbor- hood of a hundred dollars a month, furnished. Two dark visaged men were bending over a workbench at the farther side of the room. The bench was covered with strange looking dies, gravers, bootles of ink and rum, and at the end a small but perfectly modeled printing press. I listened, but from my position could catch no sound of their voices. I crept on thinking that I might by chance discover the hidden doorway. At last I came to a flight of stone steps that seemed to lead to another room directly above the one in which Thad seen the men at work. Stealth- ily I climbed these stairs; just as I reached the top another bullet from somewhere ripped through my derby and buried itself in the thick part of my skull. I threw the hat away, picked the bullet out with a small pair of pliers, and placed it in my hip pocket for a souvenir. When I reached into my pocket to do this I was greatly surprised to find EZ) By s MoTHBAKS OHER. NO (HE usreta). ROLLING Stones © ROLLING STONES Pes re tog Mh BaBy Abcs PLAYING LEAPFROG — spot LO Fok oF WaATERWINGS mara T WANNA Dune HOTWATERBOTTLE— QUENCHING (TS THIRST. Picco.o PLAYER RVING TO CAPTURE HIGH NOTE, BEVY oF SARDINE BIRDS FLYING HOME To 1 WEIR NEST, CUSTARD PIE WALKING ON STILTS. WALK, 00 NOT RU THE NEAREST evit, | ab comicbooks.com