Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1942)

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We started through the hotel lobby toward the dining room, then Karl stopped abruptly. "It's a shame to coop ourselves up in a restaurant on a night like this," he remarked "I've got a perfectly good penthouse apartment here in the Dorchester with a terrace that's going to waste. Why don't we have dinner sent up there?" His suggestion left me rather confused. Dining in a restaurant was one thing, but to go to his apartment. . . . Still, there wasn't any reason not to go, and the terrace would be heavenly after the warm sticky day. I turned to him with a smile, "I think dinner on the terrace is a wonderful idea." TTHE terrace lived up to expectations. -■ The light breeze was refreshing and the view of the river, with dozens of small boats puffing and scuttling about, fascinated me. Dinner was excellent, chosen by Karl with great care for my preferences, and we chatted gaily throughout the meal. When the waiter had cleared away the dishes I went to lean on the balcony railing and found the view even more enchanting now that the darkness had deepened and jewels of light were appearing one by one on the opposite shore. I didn't realize that Karl had followed me, wasn't even aware of his presence until I felt his arms about me, turning me around so that I faced him. I tried to pull myself away, but succeeded only in jerking my head aside so that his mouth brushed my cheek instead of finding my own. His arms tightened around me. "I love you, Elizabeth," he said softly. "I'm crazy about you." From inside the apartment there came the sound of the waiter returning with our coffee. Reluctantly, Karl released me and led me back to my chair. With the waiter's eyes on me there was nothing to do but sit down as Karl returned to his own place opposite me. While the steaming black coffee was poured from its silver pot, I struggled to control the shocked disbelief I had felt at his words. I tried to speak to Karl, wanting desperately to make the scene seem casual, but the few words that formed on my dry lips were meaningless. Karl, dropping a square of sugar in my cup, was more successful, for when he spoke his voice was impersonal yet attentive. Leaning forward, in almost a confidential manner, he touched my hand gently. "I like the way you wear your hair, Elizabeth. It's much more attractive than the way you wore it last fall." "But you didn't — " I began to protest. Karl caught up my sentence, free to say the words that choked in my throat. "Didn't know you last fall?" he prompted. "No, Elizabeth, I didn't. And I'm glad. The thrill of knowing you now has been so much sweeter." The discreet click of the outer door told us the waiter had left the apartment. For a moment I could only stare at Karl. "You — you don't know what you're saying," I faltered. "Yes I do," Karl said tensely, "I'm saying that I'm in love with you. That even if I never knew you before, I'm crazy about you." "Oh no," I protested. "You can't be in love with me. You've only known me — " "Two weeks?" he broke in. "Two weeks can be a long time, Elizabeth. It was as easy for me to fall in love with you as it was for you to get your job." There it was, in the open, with all the ugly implications I instinctively had feared when I'd first heard that Karl Winters was back in town. He stood up, came to my side, took my shoulders in his hands. "I love you — want you," he said, urgency in his voice. "And I think you love me too." "No!" I jumped to my feet. "I don't, I'm — I'm in love with somebody else." Anger blazed in his eyes, then quickly died away. "But you told me," he said heavily, "that there wasn't anybody else." "You misunderstood me," I explained frantically. "I thought you meant — that is, I meant I was free for tonight." He nodded slowly. "I see." His voice was toneless. "I guess," he said more casually, "I should beg your pardon. Or — " he paused, and there was still a fiicker of expectancy in his eves, — "should you beg mine?" ' "Oh — " the exclamation came unbidden to my lips. Half running I went into the apartment, snatched up my purse and hat and fled into the hall, to the elevator that stood waiting. Just before the elevator doors slammed shut, I heard him call, "Elizabeth, wait—" When I reached the street I fairly threw mytelf mto a taxi and there anger, humiliation, all the emotions I had held so carefully in check during the last few minutes surged through me. Karl had known — must have known from the first — that I was working under false pretenses, that I was not the Elizabeth Adams they thought they had hired. He had been willing to keep silent, as long as he had thought that I might fall in love ^OAA rreKSLo lo MARION CLAIRE — soprano prima donna o-f the Chicago Theater of the Air operettas heard every Saturday night on the Mutual network. In private life, Marion is Mrs. Henry Weber, wife of the talented musical director of the programs. She made her operatic debut in Venice, Italy, in 1926, and her American debut in Chicago in 1928. Then she turned to light opera, and was starred in the big stage production, "The Great Waltz." You saw her in the movies with Bobby Breen in "Make a Wish." She entered radio in 1940, when the Chicago operetta programs first went on the air. Blonde and beautiful, Marion is not to be confused with actress Helen Claire, also blonde and beautiful — but no relation. RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR