Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1950)

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Grateful users often after years of suffering, report the scales have gone, the red patches gradually disappeared and they enjoyed the thrill of a clear akin again. Dermoil is used by many doctors and is backed by a positive agreement to give definite benefit Id 2 weeks or money is refunded without question. Send lOc (stamps or coin) for generous trial bottle to make our famous "One Spot Test." Test it yourself. Results may surprise you Write today for your test bottle. Caution: Use only as directed. Print name Plainly. Don't delay. Sold by Liggett and Walgreen Drug Stores and other leading Druggists. LAKE LABORATORIES, Box 3925, Strathmoor Station, Dept. 3S04, Detroit 27, Mich. caressed your cheek so teasingly. . . . All of a sudden there seemed to be a lot of point in being alive. After breakfast I went down to the end of the terrace and struck up a conversation with two brown young men in dungarees who were fitting out a huge sailboat for a day on the water. One turned out to be not very interesting, but the other had a cool, clipped British voice that intrigued me. Just for practice I flirted with him a little, and it didn't hurt my mood any when his British reserve cracked and he asked if I wouldn't care to join their expedition. "Nona, you're back in form!" I told myself buoyantly, and said how sorry I was that I had a previous engagement. Jeanette and I had planned a shopping tour through Hamilton, and I wouldn't have missed a minute of her company for the world. But when I said that I would love to come some other day, his eager "It's a date, then!" was very gratifying. Jeanette, who had claimed that an occasional breakfast in bed was the privilege of her age, appeared very soon, trim in blue slacks and a striped blazer jacket. We acquired a bicycle apiece and then discovered we would have to fly if we wanted to make the ferry. I couldn't have taken life seriously that day if I'd tried. The combination of Jeanette and Bermuda had blown me sky-high in reaction to the doubt and gloom of the weeks behind me, and I wanted to skim along the sober, sunbaked streets of Hamilton. But the crisp click of the carriage-horses' hooves set a completely different pace, a rhythmical sort of rocking that made you realize speed was out of place. It was a sound that predominated even though plenty of cars, at which Jeanette frowned disapprovingly, were noisily chugging up and down picturesque Queen Street. Parking our bicycles, we ambled down the street, peacefully discussing the old-fashioned, unelaborate window displays that somehow managed to look very enticing. In Trimingham's, the largest department store, I bought some grey flannel for a suit, and hesitated over a bolt of heather tweed in which Mark would have looked just right. Mark! It was the first time all day I had thought of him! I tested the thought, and discovered that it held no pain. I felt like any wife, wondering if she dared invade her husband's privacy by choosing the material for his next suit ... in the end I decided that it would be wiser not to buy it, and we went out again into the clean, tidy street. At noon everything shut up for a two-hour siesta. We found a small restaurant with a balcony jutting out over the street, facing the waterfront that lapped at the curb opposite us. As we ate, we watched the bustle around the great white Queen of Bermuda, which had docked that morning. Afterward I stretched my legs and turned my face up to the sun. "I feel like a jungle cat after a good meal. All relaxed and revived. Maybe it was a good idea after all, my coming down here alone." Jeanette nodded. "I agree. May I hazard a guess. I think you are feeling more like yourself today, less like a woman who has been pulled this way and that until you hardly know what it is you honestly are and believe and want in life." I wasn't quite sure what she meant. She explained. "Since we talked last night I believe I understand one part of your difficulty, and I will tell you what I think. This Wendy Warren is a woman, evidently, who is of a serious, questing temperament. The very fact that she has never been able to decide what she feels about Mark has told me that. She questions herself . . . Do I really want this? Do I sincerely believe that? Will I always be so? And so on. Emotionally, one may say, she takes herself seriously." I poked thoughtfully at the ice in my glass. "You think that I, on the other hand, am light-minded? That with me things come and go without making much impression?" "Not precisely. No, not light-minded. But you are not a seeker. Basically you do not believe in such things as perfect, complete happiness — true love that lasts forever. I think you are born cynical, a trifle; and always before in your life when things have gone against you, have you not let them go with a laugh? Oh, you have made a fight, of course — I can see well that you are not one to give up easily. But if you have lost the fight, have you not been able to shrug your shoulders very prettily and forget the incident?" I grinned at her. "If you're speaking of men, I've seldom lost. But — yes, once or twice I've had to admit failure. And you're right; it was never a big thing to just let go, forget, go on to the next thing. But I never felt this way about anyone else. Mark ..." I sobered, and for the first time that day a little of the sparkle went out of me. "Mark is for 7Ha4e a date fo tcute i*t PERRY COMO Every Thursday Night NBC Station* P.S. You can see him, too, on Sunday nights on the NBC-TV Live Network! Keep in mind the exciting life story of Perry Como in the current issue of True Story Magazine now on newsstands. A full-page color portrait of Perry, too!