Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

was incredible that this could happen to Bill, who drove as if by instinct, who shifted gears smooth as silk, who braked the car as if he himself were part of it, who could anticipate what everyone else would do on the road. It seemed to Bill there was that moment in which he knew a crack-up was coming and that the next moment, beneath a deep drowsiness, he was in pain. But five days and as many operations had separated those two moments. When Mrs. Stern asked the doctor if her son would get well he shook his head and said, "We can only give him morphine — and wait . . ." He didn't add that Bill wouldn't still have been there, even as he spoke, if he hadn't been made of strong stuff — or that in spite of his superb health no one really expected him to recover. The telephone beside Bill's bed rang sharply. "It's Michigan," his nurse told him. "Miss Harriette May." She held the phone for him. "Hello," he whispered. "Hello, Harriette . . ." "Bill, I'm coming . . ." Harriette's voice kept breaking. "No, don't . . ." he said. His nurse took the phone away. But he didn't hear anything she said. He was asleep again almost instantly. He slept for a long time. When he wakened he thought he saw a bunch of bronze chrysanthemums with one white flower among them. It looked like Harriette's face finally, that white flower. He closed his eyes. The effort One Life to Share Continued from page 38 to see and understand was too great. From far off came his mother's voice. "Harriette's come to see you. Bill." He opened his eyes again. He saw Harriette distinctly this time, with her arms full of bronze chrysanthemums. "Hello, Bill . . ." she said. He whispered, "It was nice of you to make the trip." The next time he awoke, the doctor was taking his pulse and smiling broadly. "You're doing fine, boy," the doctor told him. XJIS knowledge that Harriette J-1 wouldn't have come if she hadn't cared a great deal — even enough to marry him maybe — had worked a therapy while he had slept. He saw sun coming through his window. He heard the traffic in the street below. He began re-establishing contacts with life — the life he loved so well, the life he knew somehow would be richer, happier, and sweeter than ever before. Every day Harriette and Bill sat on the hospital roof in the sunshine and played a game old as love itself. It might be called "When We Get Married . . ." "When we get married," Bill said, "we'll live in a penthouse way up near the sky . . ." "When we get married," Harriette said, "wherever we live it will be Heaven." "By the way, Miss May," Bill an nounced, "I have a little matter to take up with you. It's solely because you insisted I belonged to one kind of life, you to another, and that we couldn't possibly marry, that we haven't been married for these past two years. I don't understand . . ." "I've decided we'll have to learn to live with each other," she told him softly. "As long as we are so wretched living without each other! I held out as long as you were all right; but when you cracked up I did too." And yet, though Harriette now shares Bill's life she has never once tried to vie with his ability to stay out all night and be at work at nine sharp in the morning. She remains true to herself. And he remains true to himself. And their penthouse became a happy place for the two of them at first and for the three of them later on. For it wasn't long before Peter arrived, very little, red, wrinkled, determined, and strong. They engaged an English nurse for Peter. But three years of her quiet influence didn't temper his lusty nature even a little bit. While she was walking sedately with him in the park one day he broke away and knocked down a boy twice his size. Harriette woke up to tell Bill about it when he got in at three o'clock the next morning. "It just goes to show," she said, "that when a girl marries a rough neck she should know enough — in the course of time — to expect ..." ". . . another rough neck!" Bill ended her sentence for her. DON'T LET INHALING ALL SMOKERS SOMETIMES INHALE-BUT YOUR THROAT NEEDN'T WORRY! There's a cigarette that is proved better for you even when you do inhale! Read these facts reported by eminent doctors who compared the leading popular brands . . . that: SMOKE OF THE FOUR OTHER LEADING POPULAR BRANDS AVERAGED MORE THAN THREE TIMES AS IRRITATING -AND THEIR IRRITATION LASTED MORE THAN FIVE TIMES AS LONG AS THE STRIKINGLY CONTRASTED PHILIP MORRIS! Real protection — added to your enjoyment of Philip Morris' finer tobaccos. No worry about throat irritation even when you inhale! CALL FOR PHILIP MORRIS AMERICAS f/jy/sr CIGARETTE! NOVEMBER, 1942 81