Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

under the anaesthetic. Well, it was over. I had to accept the fact at last. There was nothing else to do. Late in the afternoon the phone rang. It was Ferenc. I had not thought of him for — how long? Thirty-six hours? It seemed like years. He said, "I think it is time that we should drink more champagne together." That, somehow, sounded exactly right. What better way to make a new beginning? "Fine," I told him. "When do we start?" "Early," he said. "What do you wear now?" "I've got on that gray linen suit," I told him. "It's tailored, rather — " "I remember," he said. "It is good. I think we find it amusing to drink champagne in street clothes for this once?" "Yes," I told him. It sounded crazy enough to suit my mood. And I was inordinately relieved to postpone going back to my room. I wished I never need go back there. Perhaps I should have been a little more careful what I wished. 'T'HE bottle was already sitting in -* its frosty bucket of ice when I came to the bench where Ferenc rose to let me in beside him. He poured the frothing champagne into my big shallow glass and held it to my lips so that I must swallow and feel the queer tingling warmth in my stomach before I could even speak. I had eaten almost nothing for twenty-four hours. I had gone through an experience that had turned my life right over. I was now in a mood of still, almost uncanny calm. I am not trying to excuse what happened, but it is fair to make it clear just what the factors were that played their part in the inevitable climax of that night. I can't describe it clearly, my memory is clouded, just as the evening itself seemed clouded as I lived it. I remember when Ferenc ordered the second bottle of champagne that he said again, "First we celebrate and then we find the reason." Oh, we found it! And why not! What had I to lose? I told myself that I was free at last to enjoy the gayety that Ferenc could provide so charmingly, free to look into his brown eyes and never think of other eyes — clear, terribly honest blue eyes. Why should I be cautious now, why should I try to figure out what was right? Hadn't I done that for three years, and what had it got me? Nothing, just nothing. Don't blame Ferenc. For one thing, he tried to make me eat while we drank that second bottle of champagne. I remember he ordered with his usual care, but I think I laughed at him. I laughed at everything. Sometimes he laughed with me, and sometimes, though, he didn't. Sometimes his brown eyes would just look at me with that deep gaze and his voice would be very soft as he reached his hand to touch mine. "Darling Janice, a mouth to laugh with is a mouth to kiss." I leaned across toward him, inviting his kiss. His lips met mine, over the table with all the dishes and glasses. Then he said, "Promise me one thing. Sometimes the weeping follows too closely after laughter. Promise you will not weep tomorrow." I said, "Don't worry, I shan't weep. That's what we're celebrating, Ferenc, didn't you know? I'm through with tears!" "How can I know?" he asked, his eyes still dark and gi . "I've told you," I said. "I guaranb i it." "Guarantee?" he asked. "What is that?" "It's proof," I said. "1 II prove it any way you say." I held up my glass to his, feeling a strange sort of satisfaction in the extravagant abandon of my words. "Any way?" His eyes never left my face. "You mean this, Janice?" "I mean it," I told him. "There is only one true way," he said slowly. "Do you know what that is?" YES," I said. "Yes, Ferenc, I think I do." "Then I will make arrangements." He spoke quietly and stood up. I saw his erect, slender body move resolutely across the dim restaurant to the lighted sign marked "Telephone." When he came back, he said, "It is done. Are you still sure?" I nodded, even then not knowing exactly what it was that I was sure of. But I was sure! I lifted my glass to my lips and said, "Here's to my proof." Ferenc drank with me but then he took my glass from my hand. "This is too beautiful a celebration," he said tenderly, "to celebrate too much." Then he took my hand and led me to the car that was waiting outside at the curb. I was not surprised to find it there. It seemed quite natural, as natural as anything that had happened in this past twenty-four hours, to get inside the car and ride through miles of crowded eauty and the BesT/ \J NE good sip deserves another . . . and another ! And remember, there's plenty to enjoy in that big, 12-ounce bottle. Plenty of size, plenty of flavor ! Keep Pepsi-Cola on ice and enjoy often. •k Pepsi-Cola is made only by Pepsi-Cola Co., Long Island City, N. Y. Bottled locally by Authorized Bottlers. DECEMBER, 1942 57