Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

Panic had transformed him into something I'd never seen before. "I won't hide, Ken," I said stubbornly. "Please open the door." 18 and sympathy that only comes with a lot of living. The things that Harry Ormsby loved he loved with a passionate and single-hearted intensity. He loved America, the country that had been so good to him, that stood for all the things he believed in, and his patriotism was the kind that went a lot deeper than the lip-service of some native born citizens who take it for granted. And he loved — me. I met him when my boss became Harry's lawyer for the chemical concern. The first time I ever saw him was when I was called in to take notes at a legal conference, and I thought he was one of the most attractive men I'd ever seen. When he first started asking me out and taking me around, I looked on him as a fine, older friend with whom I had many interests in common and who treated me with a rare oldworld courtesy I'd never experienced before. He touched me, he was so simple and so sincere. And then when, abruptly one night at dinner, he asked me to marry him, I was so surprised I said "Yes." I said it because, overwhelmed by the feeling for me he suddenly revealed, I couldn't say "No." I've never seen a man so happy. "There's only one thing," he said finally. "I'd like to wait a while before we announce our engagement. You see, I'm resigning from the plant!" "Resigning!" I was startled. "But Harry, that plant has been your life." "Now it's time to offer my life where it will do the most good — to my country. I'm too old to fight, Carol, but I'm not too old to work. I've offered my services at Washington, and they've accepted me for a post in the supply procurement department. I'm to take over in two months, and in the meantime I have to decide which of the men in the office to put in my place. No one there knows I'm leaving. I'd like to wait until that's settled before we make an announcement. Do you think you could be happy living in Washington, Carol?" "If you're there," I said, and meant it. "And you won't mind waiting till September? We can be married just as soon as I'm established in the new job. It wouldn't be fair to you to do it any sooner . . ." "I don't mind, Harry. Honestly, I don't." I meant that, too. I was glad of the delay. It would give me time really to know my own mind, I thought. I was twenty-five, and I'd worked for eight years — worked hard because I was alone in the world and things don't come easy for a lonely girl in these in secure days. I'd never been in love. I'd known several men I'd been attracted to, and they to me, but whenever the question of marriage had come up I had never felt as I thought I should. I'd never been carried away by anyone, and I'd wanted to wait for the dazzling, shining thing that would make me forget all else. Love should come like an irresistible force. Harry told me he had never been in love before, either. He had worked too hard to have time or thought for it, he said. And I knew I represented all the things he had missed — a home, a woman's care, an abiding place. "You are laughter to me when I am gay," he said, "and comfort to me when I am sad, and warmth when I am cold with the fears that beset us all." 'T'HAT night when I was alone at home, I was torn with doubts. And for many nights after. Not of Harry, but of myself. I felt a deep affection for him and I would try to be a good wife to him. But still I didn't feel the thing I'd waited to feel. And yet, I told myself, maybe some women just don't have the rapturous kind of love in their lives. Maybe some of us never know that ecstasy mixed with pain. I wanted to be fair with the man who loved . me so much. And so Harry never knew I doubted. He showered me with presents — lovely things I had always wanted, but never ostentatious. Phonograph albums of the recordings I liked, books, handkerchiefs of sheer, fragile linen. Having been poor himself, he understood the deep longing one can have for beautiful things, and he gave them to me. He gave of himself to me, too. Early memories of heartache and loneliness in a strange country; beliefs and dreams — all these he shared with me. And he talked over the problems of his business. He was worried about selecting his successor. He had picked his associates carefully and all of them were loyal and trustworthy, but the responsibilities he was leaving were heavy and he had to be sure the man he picked could carry them. "You know what?" he said one night. He was pacing up and down my little apartment, whistling the tuneless, abstracted little whistle that was as much a part of him as his broad shoulders. "I'm going to give a weekend party at the summer place and invite every man in the office and his wife, if any. I've given parties for the force before but never one like this. A whole week RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR