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both of us and had crossed the restaurant to the cashier's desk in two swift strides.
I waited miserably for Bruce to speak, feeling a childish sense of guilt, and a childish resentment, too, at his unfair attitude that made me feel guilty. I sat sipping my wine and looking about me as if I found the dim interior vastly interesting.
"Too bad he had to leave," Bruce said suddenly. I didn't look at him. The words were right but the tone was not.
"Yes," I said quickly. If I could placate him, I might save our evening after all from the distaster that seemed to hover over it. "He's really quite nice," I babbled. "Dr. Dale says he's made the most gratifying record of any refugee he's helped. He got him his job at the studio, you know." I told him how Ferenc had first worked in the Listening Post, making English summaries of broadcasts in his own language so that if any important news or propaganda came through, the transcription could be played back and studied in a detailed translation. While he was working there they had discovered his splendid speaking voice and started him making his broadcasts to Hungary for the United Nations. "Naturally, Dr. Dale thinks a lot of him," I chattered on.
AND," Bruce said, "not so naturally, so do you."
"I?" I looked at him, appalled. But it was too absurd. I tried to laugh. "Well, if I do, it must be my wellknown tendency to share Dr. Dale's proprietary interest in his clients."
My attempt at the light touch definitely didn't go over. Bruce just looked steadily at me and his blue eyes were stony cold. He said slowly, "And what kind of proprietary interest does he have in you that he calls you by your first name?"
"Did he?" I parried, surprised and at a loss.
"He did."
His cold, suspicious voice made me suddenly furious. I wanted to turn on him and demand what right he had to cross-question me in that tone. But I held to my slipping temper. After all, he had the right of the man I had promised to marry, far-off as I felt from him at this moment. So I made the mistake of trying to explain. "I don't know why he used my first name, Bruce," I said honestly. "Unless, maybe, hearing Dr. Dale call me Janice, he forgot my last name. It's very easy — " I tried a familiar joke " — to forget the name of Jones — "
But he didn't laugh, and I knew too late that I should never have tried to explain. Innocence always looks guilty under accusing eyes. But once started, I had to clear this thing up. "Bruce," I began again, desperately, "Bruce, why are you acting like this? Almost as if you were — jealous — "
He said, "Maybe I am. I don't like the way that guy looked at you."
I gasped, "Bruce, that's just silly!"
"I don't think so," he said. "He's got plans, anybody can see that." He was speaking rapidly now, with a rasping excitement in his voice. "But I should think you would have had the good taste, at least, to hold him off till I was out of the picture for good — "
"Bruce, what are you saying?"
NOVEMBER, 1942
"I'm saying you gave him plenty of response. Until he turned up, you didn't have a word to say tonight, except to veto every idea I had to please you. You were acting so queer I couldn't figure you out, the way you'd changed since morning. Then along comes this smooth foreign job and suddenly you come to life, just like that. Welcome him as if you'd been waiting for him all evening, which maybe you had!"
"Bruce, stop!" I had to put an end to this nightmare. The least we owed each other was honesty. "Bruce, listen. Maybe you are right about one thing. I was glad to see him. But it wasn't because of who he was. All I wanted was to be free for a moment from — Oh, it's hard to explain, Bruce, but I felt like I was being torn in two, trying to think what we ought to decide — "
"What we ought to decide?" Bruce picked me up sharply. "About what?"
"Oh, Bruce, you know!" Why must he make it so hard? "About us. Whether we should get married before you go, or wait — "
There. It was out. And it fell into awful, still, cold silence. Then Bruce said, "I see. You knew this morning what we ought to do, all right. But now you don't. Is that it?"
"Well, yes, it is. Bruce — I've been thinking about it, and — " I broke off, miserable under his cold blue eyes. "So much could happen, Bruce! You might change, don't you see, while you are away, and then you'd come home and find yourself tied up to somebody you wished you'd never married!"
"Are you sure that's what you mean?" Bruce asked, his voice scornful. "You sure you don't mean you might change? You might find someone— some slick number like this foreigner who makes good dough to give you a fine time while I'm away — "
"Bruce, listen!" I seized his shoulders and almost shook him. "I won't stand for that kind of talk!"
"I'm sorry." He was apologetic, but not really contrite. His voice was still harsh; he was striking out at me unfairly from his own deep unfair hurt. "I know I've got no business to try to hold you to what you said this morning," he went on, each word jabbing. "I should have figured it for what it was: a soft-hearted moment in the heat of saying goodbye to a guy going off to war. You've got a perfect right to cool off — "
"DRUCE, I haven't cooled off," I pro1J tested through tears. But hadn't I? "I wasn't — I meant what I said, but—"
" 'You meant what you said, but — ' " Bruce mocked me, and I almost hated him for his uncomprehending cruelty. "Okay, you don't know what you mean."
"And you don't try to help me!" I cried out at him. "If you want me to decide not to marry you, you couldn't find a better way to go about it!"
I didn't know what I had said till we were standing there facing each other hearing the words reverberate in the ghastly silence.
After a long moment, Bruce said, very quietly, "That sounds like you've made a decision now." And before I could answer, he had gone to the curb and called a cab from the corner stand and I did not even know clearly what had happened till I felt
KEEPING PACE
a/£h the auw&sVuded
Never in history has a war so urgently required so much of transportation . . . never has transportation responded so efficiently.
Greyhound, carrying millions more passengers than ever in the past, is extending its facilities to the utmost, eliminating all unnecessary services, so that every essential traveler shall reach his destination promptly, without waste of precious time and money.
There are jew new buses to be had —there is great need for conservation— so every coach, every scrap of rubber and metal, every gallon of fuel must be made to stretch farther and farther.
Greyhound could not successfully have carried the capacity loads of the past midsummer season without the good-natured cooperation of several million travelers. Our sincere thanks to every one of you!
How you can help when taking war-time trips:
Travel on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays.
Take as little baggage as possible.
Get trip information in advance.
Be at bus station early.
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