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84
around, and 1 saw his face.
"Paul!" I breathed, and clutched the back of the chair.
He grinned, as if it was no surprise at all to see me. Irrelevantly, I noticed that his left eyebrow was raised quizzically in the old well-remembered way. "Won't you sit down?" he asked.
Wordlessly, 1 sank into the chair beside him, and he went on calmly, as though we'd parted only the day before. "I was talking to a friend of yours only this morning. He certainly thinks a lot of you!"
I heard the words, but they didn't convey any meaning. "Paul — what happened?" I asked. "I read your book. I thought you hated me."
He'd been smiling all the time, in that old impish way, but now the smile faded, and I saw wonderingly that there were new hard character lines in his face.
"I did," he said. "When 1 wrote it I came here tonight to tell you something, but it won't be easy."
Then he was silent, and we looked at each other for what seemed an eternity. His eyes were older, I thought, they seemed steadier. His whole face seemed harder and more determined — more masculine. If there was any of the little boy left in Paul, it wasn't apparent. For a fleeting moment I wondered what had changed him, but then at last he began to talk.
"Olivia," he said, and one of his hands reached over to cover mine, "that friend of yours I talked to this morning was John Wade."
I drew a rapid breath. "Yes?"
"Yes. When I got back from field maneuvers yesterday, I found a letter from him asking me to come in.
"He told me a lot of things, Olivia. A lot of things I might have figured out for myself if I hadn't been such a bad-tempered, self-centered young egotist. He'd read my book and thought there were some things I ought to know. He told me those things in plain English, and didn't spare the adjectives. I've been all kinds of a fool, Olivia, but I didn't know quite how bad I'd been until I talked to John Wade this morning."
HE stopped talking then and looked dumbly at me. And suddenly in his eyes I saw a trace of the small boy for an instant — a small boy who had done a bad thing and was grievously sorry and ashamed.
I patted his hand gently, and said, "What have you been doing these past two years, Paul?"
He looked startled at the sudden change of subject, but took it in his stride and said, "Well, I worked at the Wade office for about two weeks and then decided I had to quit writing. 1 wanted to do some real work — work with my hands for a while. I had a lot of stuff bottled up inside me that needed to be thrashed out. So I took a job in an airplane factory."
"A factory?"
"Yep. Started at the bottom, too.
I stayed there for a year, and I learned a lot about people and life and things. Solid things. Decent American things."
"And then what did you do?" "I'd had enough by that time and anyway my fingers were itching for a typewriter. I had lots of things to say — things to make up for the things I'd said before. I wrote articles for some of the more serious magazines and then I started on the book."
LIE smiled wryly. "1 still thought
II you'd treated me badly, Olivia, and I had to get the bitterness out of my system. Well, the book came out and two weeks later I enlisted." He spread out his hands. "And that's about it."
"I think it's wonderful, Paul," I told him gravely. "How did you happen to come over here tonight?"
"That's easy. I called the theater and they told me you'd probably be here. So I thought I'd amble over."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that," he grinned.
We laughed together. Then Paul stopped laughing and said, "Olivia, let's get married."
I looked at him in surprise. "But we are married."
"Yes, I know, but let's pretend we're not. Let's pretend for a minute that we've just decided we're in love. Will you marry me?"
"Well," I said, playing my part, "it's pretty sudden. A girl just can't decide those things in two minutes." • "I know," he said, as though struck by a sudden inspiration. "I haven't proposed right," and before I knew what insane thought he had in mind, he was on one knee before me, holding my hand and saying loudly and earnestly, "Olivia, I love you very much. Will you marry me and live happily ever after?"
The boys in khaki and the boys in blue and the pretty girls in their red, white and blue hostess aprons turned around to look at us.
With flaming cheeks, I whispered at Paul, "All right, idiot — I'll marry you. And now get back in your chair and behave yourself."
The Moment They Met
Continued from page 37
cardboard cells. Several weeks later they had a rendezvous beneath a huge plaster of Paris statue and lay in each other's arms until dawn when he had to go back to war. They loved dramatically and romantically in the best manner of the best playwrights. . .
Offstage life was exciting too. After the show they went to supper at her hotel; and danced. Town people began going there to watch them. The stock company's press-agent conspired with the hotel orchestra to play "I Love You Truly" whenever they stepped on the dance floor.
It's common practice for pressagents to involve their stars in romances. Often they dream up loveaffairs between stars who actually
dislike each other. This press-agent had no such problem. Everyone in the company knew Ruth and Jay were important to each other. When they were together they looked like a pair of Neon lights.
But when they were together there was something else, too — something that only Jay sensed. It was a restraint, a sort of mysterious holdingback on Ruth's part, for which he could find no explanation. It kept him, very effectually, from speaking the words that were in his heart. He could not doubt that she loved him as much as he loved her. So many times her eyes had told him so. But then, just as he was about to answer that unspoken message, he would see
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