Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

Dearest Stranger Continued from page 13 You can't live on dreams though, and after we married Bill got a job as bookkeeper in an insurance firm. For a while his plan was to studysinging after hours. But then he gave that up too and one day solemnly assured me he'd put aside his earlier ideas. All he wanted now was to make a success in business. I tried to tell him it was a mistake but that caused arguments and finally I pretended to agree. I wanted him to know that whatever he was doing, I was with him. Then the baby came. William Tyndale, Jr., we called him, and nicknamed him Lucky. Bill got a small raise and stuck closer than ever to his work and never mentioned music. Things seem so clear sometimes — looking back. I should have known he couldn't forget music, that he was only putting on a grand pretense. I should have realized that we were living a lie. But I didn't — and I didn't even guess what was in his mind until Olga came into the picture. We met Olga Sears at a dinner party. Tall and dark-haired, with that air of sophisticated worldlywisdom some women like to wear. Bill had a few cocktails and grew talkative and sang a number of songs and Olga Sears began to rave about his voice and what a future he had. Naturally, he was flattered. Perhaps, had I been wiser, I would have known then what was to come — what was to happen to us and to our love. The truth was, I had no idea what it was to mean. Olga's husband, George, was a banker. I knew they had money and Olga had some scheme of starting an opera company in the city, with Bill singing leading roles. Of course, she couldn't finance it single-handed but she was sure others would be interested. Bill told me this was his great opportunity. I tried to understand, even though it was difficult. Bill and Olga were together practically every evening. And a change began to come over him. He grew angry at little things, became brusque and abrupt, even with Lucky. Quarrels and disputes became frequent in our home. SOMETIMES, Olga came to see us ^ and she would talk to me about Bill's future. She was tall and always smartly dressed. She and I were as different as night and day. I have light hair and my eyes are blue-gray and I'm not nearly as tall as she. She always seemed to be playing the role of the grand lady, yet I always felt stronger than she, because I knew or thought I knew, that I had Bill's love. "If only Bill could be free of financial worries, my dear," Olga would say to me. "If only he could devote himself utterly to his music — nothing could stop him." She would smile ever so slightly. Oh, she didn't say it, but what she meant was — if only he could be rid of you and that boy. But that night of our anniversary was more important than the others. I'd been counting on it. At least for this while we'd be together, only the two of us, the way it used to be. And then had come Bill's call from the office in the afternoon. Olga and he OCTOBER, 1942 had an appointment with a producer and it was so important, he knew I'd forgive him. "But naturally, I forgive you, Bill." I really tried to mean it. "We— we'll have the party later." Later. As I stood there by the window, I kept telling myself it was only business, that the dark haired Olga was nothing to him, really, that he was the same Bill I'd always known and loved, that I had no reason to be jealous and hurt. TT was a little after nine when x George Sears, Olga's husband, came to the apartment. I knew, almost from the first moment I saw him at the door, that something was wrong. It was a kind of premonition, something in the hard lines of his face, the cold, steel-gray eyes, that seemed to warn me "Mrs. Tyndale — may I come in?" There was no mistaking the grave tone. I followed him into the drawing room. For a moment he sat nervously on the sofa, running long fingers through his graying hair. "I don't quite know how to begin," he said. "I — " "Come, Mr. Sears," I said. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad." "It's about — about Olga and Bill," he said finally. "Olga and Bill?" I heard myself echo the words, wondering what he might be about to say, wondering if some of those unspoken fears I'd tried to hide, even from myself, might be coming true. "I've had them followed, Mrs. Tyndale." He spoke slowly, with a strange finality. For a moment, I didn't answer. Then I said, "Mr. Sears, why have you come here? Are you trying to tell me that — that there's anything wrong between my husband and your wife? Because if you are — " He looked at me then and I saw pain in his eyes. "Believe me, Mrs. Tyndale. This is harder for me to do than you can realize. But those business meetings of theirs — none of that was true. They've been — been having an affair, Mrs. Tyndale." "That's a lie!" I could feel my cheeks blazing. "I won't believe it." He was standing then. He said, with a quietness that only made his words more terrible, "I know my wife. This kind of thing has happened before. I've made the mistake of saying nothing, letting it burn itself out. This time I'm not going to do that." I made a desperate effort to hold fast to sanity, to the secure life with Bill that seemed to be slipping away. "And I know my husband, Mr. Sears/' I said. "He wouldn't . . ." "You think, don't you, that they're having a business meeting tonight, with a producer?" "I don't think — I'm sure." "Well, they aren't having any conference. They're having a good time — alone together — in a night club downtown. A party. If you think I'm lying — well, come with me. I can take you to them." I knew I shouldn't go. I should have stayed home, should have waited for Bill. But there was a challenge in his voice. I kept telling myself: "He's lying, it isn't true." But another uWhy cant my friends and the calendar get fogefherf* Mm *«L -i':a*titP CO it's happened again, young lady? The invitation says "... a week-end with us in the country." And all you can see is three bad days — three days of functional periodic pain, of headache, cramps and dull inaction. But don't blame your friends and the calendar for not getting together. Just blame yourself, for never trying Midol ! By its quick relief of the needless functional pain of menstruation, Midol redeems "lost days" for active, comfortable living. Among many women interviewed, 96% of those who reported using Midol at their last menstrual period had found it effective. You, too, should discover fast and welcome comfort in Midol, if you have no organic disorder needing special medical or surgical care. Try it. Put confidence in it. Midol contains no opiates. Of its three active ingredients, one relieves headache and muscular suffering, one is mildly stimulating, and the third — exclusive in Midol — acts directly against spasmodic pain peculiar to the menstrual process. Look for Midol tablets on your drugstore counter, or just ask for Midol. Two sizes — a small package containing more than enough Midol for a convinc ^-jfiS^Tji^^ ing trial, and a large package/^Ciiaran&ed by^ for economical, regular Use. \G|>°0' Housekeeping RELIEVES FUNCTIONAL PERIODIC PAIN 63