Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1942)

Cedar Springs things, but always they returned to the one topic, going over it again and again. "But if the pilot was thrown clear, Joe could have been too, couldn't he? And they didn't find any other — any other bodies." "Of course. And he might have wandered in another direction, to another hut." "Yes — although the reports say the hut where they found the pilot was the only one for miles around." r|AVID was just preparing to leave *-' when the telephone rang. It had been ringing most of the day, but there was something about its sound now that sent David to it and kept Mary immobile in her chair. "Yes? . . . Oh, hello, Jonathan . . . Just now? . . . Yes, I'll tell her." He hung up and stood for a moment, his back to Mary, as if gathering himself for a great effort. Then he said, "The pilot made a statement before he — died — forgive me, Mary, for being the one to tell you this — but he said the passengers were all — strapped in. There was absolutely no chance — for anyone — to have escaped." Mary did not answer. He turned, to see her sitting white-faced, staring straight before her. "Mary," he said in deep compassion. "Why don't you say something or — cry?" She bowed her head quickly, hiding her face with her white hands. "Why can't I believe it?" she moaned. The weeks that followed did their best to force her into belief. Search parties went over the wreckage of the plane — a gruesome task, best left unimagined. Identification, they sent word, was impossible, but it seemed none of the passengers was missing. The name of Senator Joseph Marlin disappeared from the headlines, and perhaps from the minds of all but a few people. The business of the world must continue, though, and a day came when Mary sat in the office of the Governor of the state. She wore a dark tailored suit, white lawn crisp at wrists and throat; she had refused to put on mourning. The Governor's swivel chair creaked lustily as he threw his heavy body back into it. "You know, of course, why I asked you to come see me, Mrs. Marlin?" he asked. "Naturally," Mary said. "David Post told me. And I said what I came here to say to you — I am deeply grateful for the honor but I can't — " "Just a minute." The Governor raised a broad, pink-fleshed hand. "Let me say something before you refuse. Joe was not an ordinary politician. I didn't know him so very long — I consider myself unlucky in that — but I did know him long enough to see that he had something few of us possess. Oh, I don't mean ideals. They're easy enough to have, if you're honest and sincere. The trick is to make 'em concrete — put 'em into form so they'll do some good. Joe could do that." "But that doesn't mean I — " "I'm not so sure," he interrupted. "I think you could, or I wouldn't be offering you the appointment to fill out Joe's unexpired term. I've talked to Post about you, and the editor of the Cedar Springs Times, that Jonathan fellow. They both agree that you had more influence on Joe's work than either of you, probably, ever suspected. But leaving all that aside, there's another reason I want to make this appointment. You know, the name of Marlin itself is almost a magic one now. I couldn't choose anyone who would be more popular, all over the state, than you." Mary hesitated, considering the Governor's lined face, the face of a man wise in the ways of his political world. That was the real reason, then. The voters would be pleased. And why wasn't it a good enough reason? Her life would be empty now, even emptier than it had been when Joe was in Washington and she m Cedar Springs. It would be good to have a job— a real job and a hard one, something very much worth the doing. If only she were wise enough! But all her friends and Joe's — Eve Underwood, David Jonathan, even Frazer Mitchell — believed in her. They had started the movement to get her the appointment, they had all urged her to accept it. If they had faith in her. . . "Think of it," the Governor said gently, "as a way of keeping Joe's dreams — his ideals — alive now that he's gone." Mary raised her head. "No," she said almost challengingly. "I'll take the appointment, but not to keep Joe's ideals alive now that he's gone. To keep them alive for the day he returns. Because I know he will." Will Mary's new life, in the midst of Washington's glamour and excitement, bring her the happiness she has been seeking? Be sure to read the startling climax of this dramatic serial in the June issue of Radio Mirror. Hollywood's best bet for good taste Wally Wsitmore is head of Paramount's make-up department. His good taste is tops in the art of make-up. Here's Wally — behind the scenes, working on a shot for "Dr. Broadway." 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