Radio Mirror: The Magazine of Radio Romances (Jan-June 1943)

him, life had become wonderful. Gordon was everything I'd ever dreamed about. He was large, with wide shoulders, and he had sandy hair and clear, sea-blue eyes. It's difficult to put into words, but there was a force that drew us together from the very first. Gordon knew it, too. "Mary, you're lovely," he said to me, that first evening at the dance, an hour after we met. That night he took me home and at the front door he kissed me. I remember he whispered, "I'm going to love you very much." ¥IE was a flying cadet then, studying all hours. Still, he found time to see me and we'd gone out on several dates. We both knew, both understood the strength of the emotions that swept through us. That day when his orders came to report for active duty, he'd taken me in his arms and asked if I'd wait for him. There was only one answer to that. I told him I'd wait till doomsday. We lost ourselves then in talk about plans for the future. When the war was over, he would go into his father's architectural business, and we'd build our own home somewhere in the country. It was all foolish dreaming — and very wonderful. Then he'd gone, gone for two months that were the loneliest I'd ever known. Nothing in the world — work or home or parents — seemed to matter. All I wanted was to be with Gordon again. And now he had come back, with a month's leave. The moment I saw him there at the front door, the moment he swept me into his arms, holding me so tightly he took away my breath, I knew the world was right again. "We're going to be married, Mary," he said. "Now — while I have this leave. We're going to take our happiness while we can." Looking into his strong face, seeing the anxiety in his blue eyes, I found it hard to think. It was always that way when I was with Gordon. I stopped being Mary Rowan and became just any girl in love, bewitched by love. I Gordon had hardly spoken since they joined us. It was as if he'd frozen up entirely. Earlier he'd been so wonderful and excited. And now he sat there woodenly. couldn't analyze, couldn't be logical. All I could do was to feel his hands on my arms, listen to the pounding of my heart. Dimly, I heard myself telling him I'd marry him now, whenever he said. Not until the next day, when I went in to resign, did I think of Jack, and even then I was only sad because I knew I was hurting him. When I reached home, after my interview with Jack, Mother was helping the girl get dinner and Dad was engrossed in the evening paper. But he got up when I came in and kissed me and told me he was happy I'd given up my job. "Been afraid you might become a radio performer yourself," he said. "He's a good boy, Gordon. He'll make you happy, and that's all your mother and I want." Mother cried a little at dinner. I understood. I'm their only child and they felt they were losing me. "But you aren't really," I told them. "I'll be staying right here while Gordon's on duty. I'm giving up my job only because he — he doesn't want his wife to be working in an office." Mother daubed her eyes. "There's something so final about marriage. Even when you're sure you're right." All the time I was dressing, after dinner, I had a mounting sense of exhilaration. In a few minutes, Gordon would be here, by my side. The thought was warming. Everything is different, when you're wait BAOIO MIHBOF