Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

ised to show her something special in the way of new fabrics. She was quite distraught when she saw the Ashleys waiting. To be rude to Mrs. Ashley — a favorite customer! Madame Sophie swept into the salon and took Miriam's hand. "I am delighted to see you," she said with her famous, irresistible smile. "I am always delighted. You are looking marvelously." Turning to George, she said gaily, "Some day, Monsieur, I borrow your wife to model my suits. Nobody wears them with such true chic." "Why, thank you," George said, trying not to look uneasy. Miriam concealed a tendency to giggle nervously. The whole atmosphere was so foreign to George. Maybe it wouldn't be fun after all. Maybe it would just be an awkward nuisance so far as he was concerned. And Madame Sophie had a hat on! "You're not going out?" she said anxiously. Madame Sophie made a grimace of regret. "As you see, I must. It is vital. I am dejected to be so inconvenient. But also, Mrs. Ashley, the models I wish you to see — they are not quite as I would have them. A touch here and there — but I must return later to give the touch." She clasped her small hands as though she were about to wring them in sorrow. "I am so sorry." Miriam's spirits fell. She began to collect purse and furs and gloves, conscious of the involuntary tightening of George's lips. "I'm sorry — my fault entirely. I should have called first." Madame brightened. "But wait! I make everything much better! Tell me — are you at home tomorrow at, say — two-thirty? Yes? Wait then a moment." Going to the doorway, she called to some invisible person, and a few seconds later one of the mannequins came out. "Come this way, Nancy," Madame Sophie commanded. "I want to see — stand close here, please. Mrs. Ashley, Mr. Ashley, this is Nancy Campbell, one of my best mannequins. I have the impression in my mind that she and Mrs. Ashley are approximately the same height and weight and so on . . ." Her eye turned professionally upon both of them, and she nodded. Miriam saw with a faint shock that the girl was indeed rather like herself in outline. But she's so young, Miriam thought sadly. Her face is so firm and all the lines go up instead of down. The girl was very still and seemed rather shy. Beneath the professional attempt at complete poise, her face looked delicate and soft. Young. Miriam thought with sudden, shocking bitterness, "How can Madame Sophie do this? It's the first time she's ever been so tactless — to make me stand here next to this flower-faced girl, with George to see us both . . . and all the worse because there is a slight resemblance. As though she were the ideal and I were the distortion." She waited impatiently for the girl to go, and heard with only half an ear Madame Sophie's crisp arrangements for the following day. The bubble had gone completely out of the whole morning; she wanted only to get away. All at once, as she smiled politely and nodded, she saw that Madame Sophie had perceived something was wrong. In her uncanny way, she must have sensed it in spite of the pleasant mask Miriam was wearing. Her vivid dark eyes, lively as a girl's, moved from Miriam's face to George and back again, and her lips primmed as if she had seen something she didn't like. "You will like the gowns I send tomorrow," she assured Miriam. "They will be just what you need." There was an odd emphasis in the words that seemed to imply a deeper meaning. "Especially the black lace I want you to see," she said. "It is just what you need. Au 'voir!" She swept out. More slowly, the Ashleys followed. When they stood on the street in front of Madame Sophie's, Miriam was conscious of a complete reversal of feeling. Now, instead of wanting George with her, she was anxious to be left alone. To lick her wounds? — but it was all so very silly! Nothing had happened, really; just a combination of meaningless circumstances that had added up to a spoiled morning. But stubbornly there persisted the vague thought that it was more than that. She had been very silly, cajoling George into tagging along as though he had nothing more important to do. Silliest of all to be giving it so much thought. If only George had laughed. If only he'd said something affectionately sarcastic, as he used to when she forgot or overlooked some household detail. But the look she had surprised on his face when they left was more like pity. As though he had been humoring her and felt sorry that things had turned out badly. She could see he was relieved when she thanked him for coming and said he probably was anxious to get downtown. But gallantly he said, "It's not too far to lunchtime, my dear, if you'd like—" Miriam shook her head. "I'm going to buy a hat," she said, forcing gaiety into her voice. "I can't allow myself to be so frustrated. You go ahead, darling." Then quickly she turned so that she wouldn't have to see the persistent expression of pity that George wasn't quick enough to blot from his eyes. She did buy a hat, and then she called up the most frivolous of her friends and met her for lunch. The hat and the lunch were both satisfactory. So was the rest of the day, and so was dinner; their guests were just back from South America and Miriam and George were simply the audience at a travel-talk. Once or twice their eyes met, and George smiled understandingly. Miriam tried to put the same friendliness into her answering smile, but she wasn't too successful. She kept looking for something else in George's smile. The intimacy that used to be there. The conspiracy, two-against-the-world . . . but it wasn't there at all. At the end of the evening she was so depressed that she became frightened. She really was working herself up into a state over nothing — better stop! This way lies a nervous breakdown, she told herself severely. She went to bed determined to awaken in a different mood. Over the breakfast table the next morning George looked at her searchingly. "Feeling better?" he asked. Miriam returned the look blandly. "Did I seem to be feeling badly? I'm all right." "Well, good," he said. "I thought you seemed nervous and edgy yesterday." He ran his hand over his hair in an unaccustomed gesture. "I feel a bit nervous or something myself. Maybe we could both use a vacation. With the kids away at school there isn't much life around here any more ..." Miriam bit her lip to keep back the reply she wanted to make. But because she didn't say it it stayed with her through the rest of the morning, hair hard to manage? 0 BE PROUD OF YOUR HAIR WITH J/Jve^*6* shampoq ANOL|N dollar quality giant si%e... 69? Finest creme shampoo you have ever used... or money back. Why pay a dollar? Guaranteed by Helene Curtis-foremost name in hair beauty. BLUE JAY SAY: ■