Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

Helps give you a clearer, fresher, brighter TOP-SKIN' Also Helps You Look Your Dazzling Best On Short Notice! Edna Wallace Hopper White Clay Pack is one of the best and quickest methods to help 'flake off' dried up, fading, aging skin cells — so that your 'top-skin' may appear fresher, ww*** clearer with all its natural blushing charm and loveliness. The mild 'blushing' action of Hopper Clay Pack gives your skin such a thrilling, captivating rosy glow. Notice how that tired, faded look seems to vanish. Use Hopper White Clay Pack as a quick 'beauty pick up' and to help maintain exquisite natural 'top-skin' loveliness thruout the years. Buy it at any cosmetic counter. ^& ^^HOPPER pack Important: For free advice on care of your skin— write Beauty Consultant, Room 2205, c/o Affiliated Products, Inc., 22 East 40th St., New York 17, N. Y. it's going to be the silverplate that's Sterling Inlaid with two blocks of sterling silver HERE J&QU* HIRE 90 HOLMES & EDWARDS STERLING INLAID0 SILVERPLATE Copyright 1945: International Silver Co,, Holmes & Edwards Div.. Meriden, Conn. In Canada: lheT. Eaton Co., lid °Reg.U S.Pat.OII. To keep precious woolens longer lasting and lovelier looking... wash them in WoolFoam. Leaves them luxuriously clean, soft and fluffy! Colors stay bright! Fibres stay alive! Economical! One 25if box washes 16 sweaters or woolen equivalent. At Notions, Art Needlework and Housewares Depts. Also Drug and Grocery Stores. 25f. Economy size — 50r;1. AWeUnWoot by qWogt FiAvwv WOOLFOAM CORP. New York 11, N. Y. "I don't know," he went on, and although I couldn't see his face I knew he was frowning, "it's seemed to me since I got back that he isn't — well, he isn't happy." He ended almost on a questioning note, as if he doubted his own suspicion, or at least wanted to doubt it. I couldn't reassure him, couldn't laugh off his suggestion. But I couldn't tell him it was the truth, either, because then I would have had to tell him why it was true — and that would have meant criticizing Myra. I temporized. "What could he be unhappy about?" I asked. "I can't imagine, unless — " He broke off. "He was glad to see me come home. I could tell that. But though I've tried, I've never been able to — to get close to him. I haven't had much time, of course — I've been loaded down with work." He gestured at the brief case he held under one arm, and added, "Luckily, considering the state of the family finances." 1FELT a warm thrill of happiness at having him admit me into his confidence— although I already knew, naturally, that his three years in the service had been difficult ones for Myra, as far as money went. He'd had a good law practice, the best in town, but he had given it up completely, and now he was making a new start. "If you'd like me to, Charles," I said, "I'll see what I can do. We had a little talk this afternoon, perhaps I can get his confidence. Probably," I said with false cheerfulness, "it's nothing very important, after all." "Would you do that, Fran?" The quick hope in his voice, the trust, flattered and at the same time humbled me. "I'd be — I'd be more grateful than I can say. Bob means a lot to me — and somehow I feel as if I were failing him." "No!" I said, sharply. "You mustn't, Charles — it's not your fault — " I stopped in confusion, realizing all that my sudden, unthinking words implied. Now he would ask me to explain, would demand to know whose fault, then, it was. And I — how would I answer him? Instead, after a little silence, he said wearily, "Well — do anything you can," and turned abruptly and went on his way. I stood where I was, ray heart hammering. He hadn't asked me to explain —because he knew! He knew as well as I, though he would not admit it to me. Perhaps he would not admit it even to himself. But he knew that if Bob was unhappy, the reason was Myra's insistence upon trying to make him into something he was not and could never be. I had always loved Charles. Now to that love was added pity — pity for a man caught between loyalty to his son and loyalty to his wife. For he could not help one without hurting the other. But I was bound by no such double loyalty. The next morning — Saturday — as soon as Mother and I had finished breakfast, I went through the gate in the picket fence which divided our yard from Charles' and knocked on Myra's back door. She opened it at once and stood there, smiling in the way she had — as if smiling were a social courtesy that must be paid, not an expression of her real feelings. Tall and pale, her black hair piled high on her head, even in a cotton house-dress she had a queenly quality, remote and faintly tragic. "Good morning, Myra," I said cheer