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me as if uncertain whether to stay or leave.
Something had to break the deadlock. With my heart heavy inside me, I asked:
"I suppose Tim — Tim told you all about what he thinks we ought to do?"
"Yes," Gene said, and I was amazed to hear an undertone of laughter in the word. "It sounds pretty swell to me— how about you?"
"To — to me?" I stammered. "Oh — oh, Gene!" Relief — not so much at his words, but at the tender merriment of the way he said them, at the tone which carried in it a conviction greater than any number of words could have expressed — made me weak, so that the tears I'd been holding back overflowed and I sobbed in his arms. "I thought — when you didn't come — I thought you didn't want to marry me — I thought you were mad because Tim hadn't spoken to you first — "
A little grimly, although he still held me close — "Well, I was kind of sore, to begin with. A fellow likes to do his own proposing. Tim's a swell guy, but tact isn't his long suit. But then I got smart, and thought, what difference did it make who did the proposing, as long as I got what I wanted . . . you!"
WITH the delight of that in my ears, I turned my lips up to his for our first kiss as an engaged couple — and if it was a little salty from my tears, I don't think either of us noticed.
We were married a month later — in the chapel of the church where I had been christened, with me wearing my mother's veil over a white dress that could, so sensibly, be used afterwards, and with a reception at the house following the ceremony . . .
It was like a dream, the way everything happened exactly as I had planned it that night on the porch after Tim had left me. There was only one small hitch, and it was really in Gene's and Tim's share of the arrangements. The service station on the edge of town turned out to cost more than Tim had expected, and it was necessary to arrange with the bank for a mortgage to cover part of the price. For a while it looked as if the boys might have to mortgage their old house, but finally the loan was made on the service station itself because, as Tim explained, even at the price we were paying the place was a bargain and the bank could see it didn't stand to lose anything.
Gene and Tim raved about the station's equipment — the hydraulic lift and the gasoline pumps and the air compressor and half-a-dozen other things whose names I could never remember; but I was mostly interested in the apartment upstairs, which was perfectly darling. It was the tiniest place imaginable, but so complete that I couldn't have wanted anything better. The living room was at the back, with a view of the country east of town. In front were the kitchen, with everything built-in to save space, the bath and a little bedroom.
The couple who had had the station were taking all their furniture with them, so I was able to revel in buying a completely new set of things — our wedding present from my father and mother.
At first, when we set the date for
APRIL, 1943
xent portrait of Constance luft Huhn by Maria rfe Kom merer
loo busy ior Beauty i
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'S&zis
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