Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

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lou'll prefer MODESS" the napkin with tke triple-proved DEODORANT R M 64 YOU'RE IN FOR a happy surprise when you switch to Modess — the luxury napkin with the triple-proved deodorant. It's so much easier to stay dainty, now. NO SEPARATE POWDER! No extra cost! MODESS IS SOFTER, TOO! 3 out of 4 women found it softer to the touch in a nationwide poll. FREE! Send now for "Growing Up and Liking It" — a bright, modern booklet on the how and why of menstruation. Write Martha Steele, Personal Products Corp., Box 343-E, Milltown, N. J. AND IT'S SAFER! 209 nurses, in hospital tests, proved Modess less likely to strike through than nationally known layertype napkins. Ask for that luxurious new Modess today. Box of 12 only 22f*. If vou'd rather have Modess without deodorant, just ask for "Standard Modess." But now, I realized with sickening shock, when he received that letter Bob would class me with her. The thought made me ill, so that I had to sit down for a moment at the side of the road. It was terrible, the thing that had happened to our marriage. And there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing. But still the memories persisted, sweet and torturing.) There was the night of the cloudburst when two of the training planes were believed lost. Bob was in one of them. For two hours I sat in the control room, rigid. The radio operator tried again and again to make contact. Little beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. He said once, "Better drink some coffee, Mrs. Reynolds. You're white as a sheet." I tried, but I could not swallow. The commanding officer paced up and down, smoking endless cigarettes. All the men's faces were gray. And then, when we had almost given up hope, a plane came in. Then the second broke through the low ceiling. With maddening slowness, they came to rest on the flooded field, and we ran toward them, breathlessly. Two minutes later I was in Bob's arms. I would not let him out of my sight. I wanted to keep touching him, to make sure he was real. When we reached home he sank exhausted into the one comfortable chair and pulled me down to him. He buried his face in my shoulder and held me tight for long moments, not saying anything, until my trembling had stopped. It was as if we gave strength to each other, as if we were one, and I thought, This is what marriage means — the glory of it. We kissed each other, gently at first, then with the deep ardent desire of two people who have really found one another. I knew in an offhand way that Bob was sincerely fond of children. The youngsters who lived around the field were always tagging after him, getting him to umpire their football games and settle their arguments. But it was not until little Butch came to the Base that I realized how much they meant to him. Butch was the five-year-old son of one of Bob's pals — a sturdy, rebellious kid who would obey no one but Bob. And Bob he worshipped. They were always together. One of Butch's favorite pastimes was watching Bob shave. It was funny to see the tall, thin figure of my husband bending over and solemnly putting lather on the chubby little cheeks of the boy. Then he would hand Butch a spoon so that he too could "shave." Watching this procedure one Sunday morning, I asked Bob teasingly, "I take it you would not mind too much having a son of your own?" He straightened instantly and the light that leaped into his face was so radiant that I caught my breath. "Kit!" "Well, it's not too impossible, you know," I said to tantalize him. He caught me by the shoulders and lifted my face. What he saw there made him give a cry of sheer joy. He drew me up to him and kissed my forehead and eyes and nose and mouth. My arms, closed around him, felt his trembling. "My darling," he whispered, "My darling, darling Kit . . ." That night neither of us could sleep. The air from the desert was sweet and BUY VICTORY BONDS to bring the boys back home!