Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

the spirit of spring and youth. That was the line I used in the shop — now I was actually believing it myself. I fussed with the gardenia in my hair. The two men gasped when I stood in the archway and asked them how I looked. Ralph surveyed me coolly, as if I were some inanimate statue. "Hardly what you'd call practical, Marion." "But you do think it's pretty?" "Is that all you think about? Being pretty?" [" DIDN'T answer. I'd grown used to his way of hurting. It was because he was jealous, and I knew jealousy made people say things they didn't mean. They wouldn't answer my questions about Robin. "He'll tell you himself," Ralph said, "when he gets here." I tried to hide my nervousness. We finished dinner and sipped our coffee in the living room. I heard the big grandfather's clock strike seven-thirty and I felt myself grow taut and all sorts of ideas went through my mind — maybe it was some kind of joke, maybe he wasn't coming after all, maybe he was married — The doorbell rang and my heart seemed to stop beating and I heard Dad say, "It's probably for you, Marion." I was so scared, it was all I could do to walk to the door. My hand reached out to the knob and turned it and pulled the door open. Robin was standing there. For a moment I couldn't speak or move or do anything at all. It was the same Robin, the same tall strength, the same twisted grin, mischief in his eyes. "Hello," he said. "Is—" I said, "Robin — Robin — you've come back." It was hardly more than a whisper. He said, "Marion!" For what seemed an eternity he looked at me. And at last, very low, he said, "Yes, I have come back, haven't I?" He stepped forward and bent down and kissed me. It wasn't a long kiss. But its warmth stayed on my lips. "It's been so long," I said. "So terribly long." We went into the living room, and Ralph greeted him, pleasant but reserved. Dad came over and shook hands. I could not miss the awkwardness of that moment; no one seemed to know what to say. The same Robin I had known. But now I saw he was changed, marked by time. And here in the living room, the sparkle had gone from his 16 eyes and he seemed ill at ease. It was Ralph, curiously, who broke the silence. "I guess," he said, "you two would like to be alone. Probably a lot to talk over. We've got business — " But Robin — Robin who hadn't seen me in those years — actually wanted them with us. "We'll all go out," he said loudly. "We'll make it a party." He forced them to agree, finally, and we went out together. That was an evening I have tried to erase from my memory. Because all the joy of seeing him and being with him again ended. We went from one night club to another and all the time he spent in talking of the women he had © (S^V v^'S »n <Ne»& /Vlotvtk In Living Portraits you'll treasure — MA PERKINS and the people of a favorite radio drama. Don't miss them in the August RADIO MIRROR fcc .1 -» £}#* / dD*. vv. v known in South America, of nights in Rio, dancing and making love. After midnight, we arrived at a cabaret in the downtown section. I tried to keep the talk away from Robin's South American escapades. I told him about the dress shop, how I had got the job on my own, how I wanted the feeling of paying my own way. "It isn't a big job or anything. But it's the kind of work I like". And it's kept me busy — " We'd had so many discussions about our ideas and our plans in the past — before he'd gone away. The memory of those times came back to me now and it almost seemed, for a moment, as if I were taking up where we'd left off. But I was surprised at the hard glint that came into his eyes. Instead of being pleased, he seemed almost angry. It dawned on me suddenly that he'd been that way all evening, whenever I'd tried to talk with him. "Is anything the matter?" I asked. "Aren't you glad to know I've been working hard?" "Sure, I'm pleased." His voice was flat. "But it does seem a little foolish." "Foolish?" "That's what I'd call it. You're working hard and that's good. But you'll never get rich that way. You ought to find yourself a better racket than that." "Racket?" The way he said it was so unlike him. "You wouldn't have talked like that before." "I was a young fool then." His tone was contemptuous. "I've learned a lot since then. Enough to know there isn't any point wasting time on penny-ante. People worry too much about keeping everything on the up and up. That's so much bunk. Get what you can — " "Robin!" A sense of horror ran through me. "You've changed. I don't understand — " "Sure I've changed. What do you think I stayed in South America for? To be a good neighbor? I was looking for a racket — a way to chisel out a hunk of dough quick. Almost had it, too. But the war came, and the police clamped down on foreigners and I had to get out. Just the same, that's the smart way." It wasn't possible. And yet I saw his eyes, narrow, full of greed. He must have known what I was thinking because he said slowly, "Don't be a Pollyanna, Marion." Something within me died. I was cold and numb. I closed my eyes but there was no holding back the tears. I put my hands to my face and tried to stifle the sobs. Robin ' was silent. After a few moments, I regained control of myself. I stood up, shook back a loose lock of hair. I was glad for the dim lights in the night club. "Ralph, please take me home'. Now." Without a word, he went to get my cape from the check room. The others were standing too. I couldn't bring myself to look at Robin. I felt his hand on my arm and drew away. Robin said. "I can't. I can't do this." I turned to him. "What do you mean?" "It's that Continued on page 67 RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR