Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1941)

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If the 15 miles of kidney tubes and filters don't work well, poisonous waste matter stays in the blood. These poisons may start nagging backaches, rheumatic pains, loss of pep and energy, getting up nights, swelling, puffiness under the eyes, headaches and dizziness. Frequent or scanty passages with smarting and burning sometimes shows there is something wrong with your kidneys or bladder. Don't wait! Ask your druggist for Doan's Pills, used successfully by millions for over 40 years. They give happy relief and will help the 15 miles of kidney tubes flush out poisonous waste from the blood. Get Doan's Pills. . . 64 He Called My Bluff (Continued from page 11) can't she even sign a contract — without selling herself for it?" He let no expression of any kind cross his face. "A girl can be as good as she likes," he said, "in any kind of career, if she knows how to turn men down without hurting their self-esteem. It's also advisable — at least it's easier — not to invite reactions she doesn't want. What were you expecting would happen, coming in here made up and dressed in a way to excite and bewitch any man?" "I — I — " But I could only stammer that much, and stop. For I couldn't tell him what I had expected. I couldn't reveal my own appalling innocence by telling him I'd only wanted him to notice me. I knew now that he must have been watching me all along, noting the attempts I made to be more beautiful in his eyes, and putting his own construction on them. And as nearly as I could tell from what he had said, that construction was simply that I was willing to sell myself for a chance at success. I COULDN'T blame him, looking ' back. I was humiliated, thinking of the spectacle I must have made of myself, and of what must have been his thoughts as he watched me. But now I was reluctant to confess my innocence. In his sophistication, he would only laugh at me all the more. So I made a quick, desperate decision. I'd humor him, placate him now. Afterward, I'd try to win back his respect. But for the moment, I'd play the game as he thought I was playing it. "What should I have said, then, when you asked for a kiss? Of course you didn't mean it. I was silly to think you did. You were putting me to a test or something. But if you did mean it, I mean if anyone did, what would have been an answer that — that wouldn't be too — savage?" He looked at me incredulously, then laughed. "Are you asking me to tell you how to win a game against me?" he demanded. "Besides, I don't know exactly. But some girls can bring a man to order and be liked for it. Learn about it from them. And I did mean what I asked, and you can't kid me out of meaning it. So have you meant the tricks you've been playing, to interest me, whatever your reasons were. I think now that you hoped to make a willing slave of me, uncompensated in any way. But until now I thought you meant you'd accept my help on — whatever terms we might arrive at." His merciless and all too accurate interpretations carved themselves on my heart and mind and spirit, and tears burned in my eyes and on my cheeks. "That's how it happened," he added with sudden gentleness, "that we disappointed each other. But if you'll stop crying like that, as if some one had died or something, I'll go on doing all I meant to do for you, just as I would have done if you'd been nice to me and more consistent. That is, what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry for my share in our being disappointed." He smiled boyishly, frankly, bewilderingly. "I imagine I could even be jealous if you like," he added, "and ward off other men until you have worked out a technique." He was starting to look as if he was having a very good time. "The only trouble is," he said, "that you'd have to go out^with me sometimes, I suppose, wouldn't you, to give them the idea that you belong to me. Would you be disappointed again if I asked you to go out with me an evening soon? Maybe tonight?" "It would be lovely," I said, "to go out with you." "To dinner?" he asked. "Or "a play? Or both?" Surely this couldn't be happening, surely everything couldn't be all smoothed out so quickly and easily. And on the way home I began to think he must have expected me to concede a kiss, if he offered everything he thought I might want. But all evening Stephen Langley did everything he could, to please me, called for me in his car, brought me an orchid to wear, bought me the thrill of orchestra seats at the newest musical, and supper at a smart place afterward. And before the evening was over, I began to feel a spot of real warmth burning in each cheek, underneath my makeup, at the persistent thought that by that time I owed him the kiss I had refused. And if he asked it, when we said good night, it would be different from handing me a contract while he asked it. It would be like any of the boys expecting to be kissed good night when we'd gone to a show. AT supper, excited and maybe a little unbalanced by his attentiveness and generosity, and the lavish beauty of the hotel dining-room, and the seductiveness of the music, I determined I would not refuse. I even tried to be encouraging, though not too much so. But on my doorstep he unlocked the door and handed back the key and said good night, and would I go out again another night, and that was all. And I was standing on the upper step, and our lips were so near, so almost on a level, and it would have been so easy to kiss him simply, honestly, gratefully, without coquetry, that — I did. "Thanks," I said, "for everything." I had thought he would understand that I only was offering my thanks for a perfect evening. But he caught me to him and kissed back, and I stood breathless and my lips felt hot and bruised. "I'm crazy about you," he said, and the words sounded torn from him against his will. I said, "I'm glad," and then wondered where my own words had come from, because they had not passed through my mind before I heard them being spoken. He answered, "Don't go in. It's early. Let's talk. We've got to get to understand each other — and ourselves." "I'd better go in," I pleaded. "I really must. Mother would worry," and I wondered if that was what those girls would have said, who could keep safe and yet not sacrifice a man's self-esteem. And he must have remembered the same thing, because he smiled, and said, "That's not your true reason. But RADrO AND TELEVISION MIRROR