Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

drea — " Just that, just her name. And then his arms were around her, holding her with a tenderness and passion that was astonishing and — yes, gratifying. When he kissed her mouth Andrea knew a brief sensation of withdrawal and revolt, and then even the revolt passed and she was submitting to his caress and almost answering it. YtfHEN the first excitement was over Frank started planning. Andrea must have her engagement ring at once — so the town would know that she belonged to him. Not a diamond — diamonds were too cold — it must be a sapphire, the color of her eyes, and she must let him give her a mink coat for an engagement present. He was going to New York that weekend and she must come along with him — it would be perfectly proper, they'd stay at different hotels — and choose the ring and the coat. He was leaving on Thursday — they'd go down by train —Andrea interrupted him here. "But I have to work until Friday night," she reminded him. "School keeps, no matter what!" Frank's brow clouded with brief annoyance and then the annoyance passed. "Perhaps it's just as well," he said. "Thursday and Friday I'll be busy — but you can fly down on Saturday morning and join me for lunch and we can do our shopping in the afternoon, and fly back together. I don't have to tell you that I've an interest in that airplane plant on the outskirts of town. I'll have one of our test pilots take you in a brand new ship." A sapphire ring — a mink coat — a special trip in a new airplane. What girl wouldn't be thrilled and dazzled? Andrea, responding with less restraint to Frank's kisses, told herself that she'd made a good choice — that the marriage might be a great success, after all, that she wouldn't let a twelve-year-old divorce mar her shining future. . . . When Frank left her, that evening, her mind was swimming and if her heart was a trifle numb that was only natural. Her heart was unused to the amount of strain that had been put upon it. It was the beginning of the week when Andrea Reynolds became engaged to Frank Harrison and she lived in a gathering whirl of excitement during the days that followed. Phone calls, notes by special messenger, flowers — Daddy Little complained whimsically that the orchids Frank sent her put the blossoms in his shop to shame! The Harrison car waited every afternoon at the school gate to take her home and Andrea knew that her fellow teachers and 26 the principal, Mr. Saunders, were speculating about the attention she received from the town's richest man. She hoped that Mr. Saunders, especially, wouldn't mis-read the signs. He'd been antagonistic ever since her arrival in Beechmont — he seemed to resent her youth ' and prettiness. But, despite her apprehension and embarrassment, she was too shy to announce her new status, even to the favorite few who were her confidantes. "You mustn't tell a soul," she warned Frank, "not even Junior — until I'm wearing my ring. The ring will be self-explanatory — I won't have to make alibis when it's on my finger. Promise, Frank?" Frank had promised, but Andrea wasn't quite sure that he'd stuck to his guns. For once when she was teaching the world's changing history to her eighth graders — pointing out new boundaries on the map — she detected Junior's speculative gaze on her face and couldn't help wondering if he had an inkling of what was going on. She flashed a Fictionized by Margaret E. Songster from the radio story heard weekdays at 2:30 P.M., EWT over CBS, sponsored by Grape Nuts. Illustrations posed by the cast — Betty Worth as Andrea, Horace Braham as Frank Harrison and Don McLaughlin as Kit Collins. wistful, bright smile in his direction and he answered it doubtfully. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. On Wednesday night Andrea had dinner with Frank at the town's best hotel. He'd be leaving for the city tomorrow and she wouldn't see him again until their Saturday rendezvous. When he reached across the table to pat her hand, when he lifted that hand and pressed his lips to her slim fingers, Andrea — flushing — was aware of many eyes watching her avidly and knew that waiters and hotel guests alike were forming their own conclusions. She wished that she could be less self-conscious about Frank's attentions — she wished that she could be more ardent in her feelings toward him. and told her self, over and over again, that his evident happiness was compensation for all that she couldn't feel! But the constant reiteration didn't help much. There was a lack and — in the inner recesses of her soul — she recognized the lack. Thursday, with Frank Harrison leaving Beechmont and with a telegram from the train telling her that he loved her — and that he was counting the hours until Saturday. Friday, with another telegram and a night letter and two long distance calls. Saturday morning at last and Andrea was starting in a taxi for the commercial air field that was a part of the aviation plant in which Frank held the controlling interest. She was wearing her smartest suit and a tight little hat — her fiance would be proud of her when she arrived in New York, if she weren't blown to pieces! When she reached the field she stepped out of the taxi, feeling like a streamlined Cinderella, but she was oddly flustered when she asked at the entrance about the plane that had been chartered for Miss Reynolds. The man at the gate surveyed her slantwise and said — "Oh, yes, I know all about it — Mr. Harrison's orders. You're in luck, Miss Reynolds — Kit Collins will fly you down, and he's tops!" He raised his voice and shouted, "Hi, Kit! The lady's here!" And then she saw him. Kit Collins, tousle-headed, tall, with the bold eyes of a paid adventurer and the lithe body of a professional athlete and the swinging stride of a man who is bred of the sea or the air. He came toward her across the level ground and raised his hand in a mocking salute and drawled, "All set, Miss Reynolds? Because if you are, let's get goin'!" Sometimes it happens suddenly. Sometimes a man — no better looking than other men, much less desirable than other men from the standpoint of material values — will walk toward a woman across a broad field and will never stop walking until he's reached the center of her soul. As Andrea watched Kit Collins come closer and closer, she knew a hot, breathless sensation in her brain. Usually at ease with strangers, she was curiously abashed and tonguetied in the presence of something she couldn't analyze or explain. She followed the pilot, wordlessly, to the neat little ship that stood with wings outspread waiting to take flight — she let him help her in and adjust her safety belt — she told him, in the shortest of sentences, that she'd never flown before, that this was all new to her, that yes, she was excited. But she didn't tell him that nine-tenths Continued on page 72 RADIO AND TELEVISION MHWOR