Radio Mirror: The Magazine of Radio Romances (Jan-June 1945)

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I scabies, athlete's foot, "factory" itch, and other itch troubles are praising cooling, liquid D. D. D. Prescription. | This time-proved medication— developed by Dr. D. D. Dennis— positively relieves that cruel, burning itch. Greaseless and stainless. Soothes and comforts even the most intense itching in a jiffy. A 35c trial bottle proves its merits or your money back. Ask your druggist today for D.D.D. Prescription. be together for as long as we are happy with each other, and not because a law says we must. This way, we know that all the wonder and beauty of our love cannot be spoiled, because we will stay together as long as our love is beautiful, and if there ever comes a time when it is not, we can go our own ways, and not be held together in bitterness. Oh, believe me, darling, it's better this way." Suddenly he swept me into his arms and carried me lightly across to the car. I felt like a bride, carried over the threshold of a new and wonderful life, more excited, more sure of joy, than any pride who is carried over the threshold of her own new home. Deke put me into the front seat of the car, started to climb in beside me. Then, "I'll only be a moment, honey," he said, and turned and went swiftly back to the house. In a moment he was back, starting the car, turning it out through the gate, down the road along the lake. "I left a note for Bill," he explained. "I said I'd been called back to town, and that you decided to ride with me." "Oh. Deke — where are we going?" He was silent for a moment. "I — I don't know — yes, I do, Kathy. Mother's cottage — it's been opened, but she isn't down yet. We'll go there." I felt, momentarily, as if a cold wind had blown swiftly across the warmth of my happiness. "Deke — should we?" He squeezed my hand. 'Ws all right, darling. Of course it is — what better place to go?" 'TVHE happiness flowed back as I re•* turned the pressure o# his hand — but it had not quite the quality of complete abandon that it had had before. Deke had told Bill we were going back to the city. That was the first lie. There would be others, always, after this. Now, it didn't matter. But somehow, back in the part of my mind that was still functioning normally, in the corner of my heart that had not yet been touched by the wonder of loving Deke, I knew that it would — later, someday, sometime. I kept watching for the headlights of Bill's truck, thinking that if he were to meet us he would surely recognize Deke's car. Not until we had gone through Appleton and had turned back to the lake again did I feel easy. Then I told myself that I was happy, that I was going to be happy, that I was going to be happy all the rest of my life. There would be more drives like this, with Deke holding my hand, my head on his shoulder — more highways that would lead us to the heaven of each other's arms, to the completion and affirmation of our love. And what we were doing was right. It was right for us, right in our own eyes, in our own thoughts. That was all that mattered. We turned into a driveway finally, under a canopy of tall old trees. Deke stopped the car under a rough wooden portico and came round to help me out. "We'll leave the car here," he said. "It'll be all right for tonight." And then he was opening a door and with his arm around me, guiding, I was stepping into blackness, and there was the smell of closed rooms in my nostrils. I was in a stranger's house — Deke's mother's house. "When did you say your mother was coming out?" I asked. "The first of the week — perhaps Monday. But don't We'll be out of here I'll find a light—" I blinked at the worry, sweet, by then. Wait, brightness that