Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1942)

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J. 3 out of every 4 voted Mod softer ViM we NAPKIM 7He/p BEBti eUYtN& Pronounce Modess to rhyme with "Oh Yes" political help. Probably Mary would come back to him if she knew he needed her to attain his ambition. But this he would never tell her. He did not want her on those terms. After a long time he took a small, shabby notebook from his pocket. It was his private journal — not so much a diary as a repository for all the secret thoughts which burned so deeply inside him that they must be expressed somehow. Only Jonathan knew of its existence. Between two of the pages, near the back, was pressed a slip of arbutus, brittle now and brown — the arbutus Mary had picked and given to him on a spring afternoon many months before. He picked up a pen and on a blank page wrote a few words: "I found out today that I've lost you, Mary darling. But I'll go on loving you — even though you'll never know it." Then he closed the book and slipped it back into his pocket. Silently, he resolved never to write in it again, because that chapter of his life was finished. JONATHAN appeared to use all his spare time in writing a novel which absorbed him completely, but he was more observant than he seemed. He was quick to sense the change in Joe, who had returned to Cedar Springs full of such high hopes, and just as quick, by adroit and oblique questions, to learn the reason. He wasted only a few hours, after that, in pondering the rights and wrongs of his conduct. He had none of the conventional scruples where the happiness of his friends was concerned. Probably, he reasoned, Joe was mistaken in his belief that Mary had stopped loving him and had turned to David. Mary, in Jonathan's shrewd view, wasn't that kind of a woman. In any case, he could see no harm in doing a little investigating, and so, one evening, he called alone on Mary, bringing in his pocket a small object which he had unobtrusively lifted from Joe's dresser drawer. "I guess I'm butting in where it's none of my business," he apologized. "But I hate to see two swell people making a mistake when it isn't necessary. Why don't you and Joe get together again? I thought you were going to." "I thought so too, Jonathan," Mary said simply, tacitly granting the little man's right to intrude on her emotions. She looked lovelier than ever tonight. She had not been sleeping well, and the violet shadows under her eyes accented their more brilliant violet. Above her pale skin the heavy hair glinted darkly in the subdued light. Yet, with all her beauty, she seemed listless, weary. "Joe thinks you're in love with somebody else," Jonathan told her. "Is he right?" A flush came to Mary's cheeks. "In love with — Of course he's not right! I've never loved anyone but Joe. Who in the world would he think — " Jonathan ignored the implied question. "I was sure he was crazy. But it's the idea he's got into his head. It's why he hasn't been near you lately." "Oh, it can't be!" Mary burst out. "No, you're wrong, Jonathan. Joe has found out he doesn't — care for me any more. He's still infatuated with Sally Gibbons." "That's all over — been over a long 62 time. Joe and I've lived together for months, and I'd be sure to know." Twisting her hands together, fighting against the sudden new hope thit threatened to engulf her, Mary cried, "But she was at his office just the other day! I saw her — I heard her — " She stopped, biting her lips. Not even to Jonathan could she repeat what she had heard. "Sure, I know it," Jonathan shrugged this aside. "He called her up there to give her a check and write 'period' to the whole business. He told me all about it." Wide-eyed, Mary stared at him. "Oh!" she whispered. "I can't believe—" "Joe's still crazy about you, Mary," Jonathan insisted. He reached into his pocket and drew out a black booklet. "Here's the proof — in his own handwriting." He selected a page and held the booklet out to her, open. With luck, he thought, he could return it before Joe got home. Unless Mary told him, Joe would never know it had been gone. ll/IARY read the words written in ■'-" Joe's tiny, characteristic hand — and she knew, while her brain whirled dizzily, that this was the truth. "It is — it is" she gasped. "Oh Jonathan, thank you! I must see him — I must go to him now — excuse me, you darling!" She was already in the hall, tearing a coat from its hook, when she heard Jonathan saying lightly, happily, "Guess if you hurry, Mary, you can find him at the office." The dark, wintry streets whirled past her as she ran. Hurry! hurry! her heart called out. So much time has been lost already, there must not be another minute, another second! There was a light in his office. She fiung the door wide and rushed through, crying, "Joe— my dearest! I've come back to you — I thought you didn't love me — but now I know — Joe! Joe!" Then she was in his arms, pressed close to his heart, pressing him close to hers. Cedar Springs gossiped, as was its way, but on the whole it was well satisfied to see Joe Marlin and Mary Marlin once more occupying the old Main Street house together, satisfied to see Joe crossing the Square at the usual eight-thirty every morning on his way to the office, to read the formal announcement of his candidacy for United States Senator. It seemed to Mary, in that enchanted first year of her reconciliation, that she had never been so happy — not even in the twelve months following their marriage. For now there was a deeper, richer contentment — a maturity in their love that was like the fulfilled calm at the end of a summer day. And there was another reason, a reason greater than they had ever had before, for happiness. . . SHE could not go with Joe on that last whirlwind campaign tour of the state, late in October. But she could crown the joy of his victory over the other candidate for Senator, Daniel B. Burke, with an intenser joy. David Marlin, their son, was born on Election Night. "I don't deserve to be so lucky," Joe murmured, bending over the bed where she lay with the small Davey cradled in her arms. It was her first day home from the hospital, and she RADIO AND TELEVISION ]M[IRROR