Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1941)

bling down for me." He smiled at me "Not that I'm complaining of anything today. It sure was a swell break that brought you to the piano for me." Impetuously he insisted on seeing me again— that very evening. I wanted to tell him I was an engaged girl. But I couldn't somehow. And as I didn't wear my ring during business hours, he couldn't tell from that. Besides, I think I really wanted to, so I said yes. HE took me to a concert that evening. Then two days later it was lunch again. Then he asked me to go to a music-store with him to help him choose some new songs. And that evening it was dinner in a little French restaurant. After dinner he said he wanted to go over his new songs. Would I come to his studio and try them out with him? I hesitated. A voice deep inside me, was warning me. But, I reasoned, why not? What was the harm? "All right," I said. His studio was in the West Thirties, four nights up in an old-fashioned house. It was a curious place, a small room full of antique furniture he had inherited. There was an old upright piano in yellow wood, some fine hooked rugs and, behind a screen, a gas range and shelves for food. "Living, eating, sleeping and working — all in one room!" he laughed. "But I won't be here long. Just give me one big break and watch me travel!" In another man it might have seemed conceit. In Hal it merely seemed justifiable self-confidence. Or was I prejudiced? Was I ready to believe anything he said because every minute I was with him I felt myself a new person, alive to the fingertips? I went through songs with him for three hours. At the end, exuberant and excited, he gathered me in his arms and kissed me. My response to his warm, eager lips frightened me. It was then I discovered how little Chefs kisses had stirred me. The vitality of Hal's kiss made my heart pulse into a high rhythm it had never known before. I broke away, hastily said goodnight and ran down the stairs, as if I were running from some danger. I was frightened — and at the same time, I was happy. Happiness was the natural result of the ecstasy I had experienced in his arms during that one moment. But it was wrong, I kept telling myself, over and over — wrong to be so happy in the embrace of any other man but Chet to whom I was engaged. 32 So for a week I fought against myself. I refused to see Hal, and talked almost coldly to him on the telephone. I made every possible opportunity to see Chet. I did respect and like him!— and when he took me to a big formal advertising club dinner, and I saw the respect and deference with which everyone treated him, my heart was full of admiration. But not of love. When he took me home, that night, I asked him in. I made some coffee I talked furiously, and laughed quickly at the amusing things he said. As we sat before my little white fireplace I kept thinking, this is the man I love, the man I am going to marry. It was no good. I saw things plainly when Chet had left and I lay in my bed, wide awake, my thoughts racing. He was not the man for me. I hadn't known what love was, before I met Hal. But now I did, and it was not love I felt for Chet. Then what was I doing, barring Hal from my life? Why shouldn't I see him? Hadn't I done everything in my power to give my heart to Chet— and failed? So Hal and I started seeing each other again. Chet had gone out of town and I did not miss him. Our relationship seemed more and more unreal. Only the hours I spent with Hal seemed to be part of my actual life. I knew I was in love with him now, and what else in the world mattered? To me, who had never lacked the courage to follow my instinct wherever it led — nothing. Then came the gay little party he gave at his tiny studio. After his guests left that spring evening, I remained behind to help him clear away. What a warm, singing feeling it gave me merely to be washing the dishes, running the old carpet sweeper over the rugs! "Now don't tell me you're sleepy and must run home!" laughed Hal when the work was finished. It was after one. "I never was more wide awake in my life," I said. "Then sit down here on the sofa. I'm going to give my accompanist a concert all by myself," said Hal. He had some phonograph records which played only the accompaniments, the vocal line to be supplied by the user. He put the records on one after the other on his phonograph. He sang "Rolling Down to Rio" and the Toreador's Song from Carmen. Then he sang a plaintive little French ballad. His voice, though vibrant and young, seemed to express all the frail loveliness of a ■ As he handed me the music his hand grazed mine. I felt a thrill that was painful in its intensity go through me at that accidental touch. vanished time. It touched me to the heart. I felt a choked, a tight sensation in my throat. He — he was not only a man, but a real artist. How proud I was of him! How I loved him and how proud I was of that love at this moment! His voice died away. The accompaniment ceased. There was silence in the room. Outside too there was silence in the heavy spring darkness. He came over to me. He took my hands in his, bent and kissed them. They trembled in his grasp. Then he seated himself beside me. He held me close. "Darling, darlinghe breathed. "I love you! I want you! I adore you!" RADIO ANT> TELEVISION I struggled, but weakly. The thought of Chet stabbed me. But —I did not love Chet. I knew that Perfectly well now. I loved only this man whose voice had sought out the innermost depths of my heart, whose kisses were pleading, coax'"5, storming upon my lips. Why should I hesitate to return them? "I love you, Hal!" The whispered w°rds came from me without my "'ling them. And at the sound of 'hem the joy in my heart mounted ™ mounted. I stopped thinking, fa«ng, worrying. I let the tumult of love flood. sweep me away entirely in its fit afterwards, remorse and ■e gave me no rest. True, I *ami MA8CB, 1941 loved Hal. True, I had no feeling for Chet. But just the same, what had I done to Chet? How could I face him now, his quiet blue eyes so confident of me, his voice always so gentle when he spoke to me, his trusting me that was so perfect? I had thought the conflict in me was over. I found it had just begun. Again I cut myself off from Hal. He sent me flowers, notes that burned with ardor. He telephoned me several times a day. Stubbornly I declined to see him. I was very busy, I said. He was hurt, then angry He could not understand my conduct. He knew I loved him. Why on earth had I broken from him so abruptly? What was the mystery? I answered with evasions, hesitations awkward silences on the phone Finally, after torturing myself and Hal for over a week, thankful only that Chet had not yet returned from his trip, I made up my mind. I would break off my engagement with Chet. That would not erase the memory of the way I had betrayed his trust, but at least the path of my future would be clear. Then conscience could no longer lay a heavy hand on the joy of my love for Hal. Suddenly at ease now, the next time Hal called up I said I would see him. I had something important to say to him. We dined together. Quietly I told him I was engaged to Chet Barr, and that now I had decided to break the engagement just as soon as I could see Chet. I was touched by the humility with which Hal took my news. He seemed hardly able to believe, at first, that I had chosen him instead of a successful man like Chet. And even after I had told him again and again that I had no regrets, he wouldn't let himself be convinced. "Don't break off with him, Diane," he pleaded. "At least — not just yet. For your own sake. I — " His eyes dropped; it was hard for him, I knew, to make the admission that was coming. "I talk a lot about being a success. But I may never be. I may never be able to give you all the things Chet Barr could give you — all the things you deserve. And I won't ask you to marry me when I'm able to offer you so little." "All I want is you — " I began, but he silenced me with a gesture. "That's what you think now. But wait a while, Diane. Wait until you're sure, before you throw away your chance at all the things being Mrs. Chet Barr would bring you. Please! Give yourself time to know you love me — " he smiled crookedly— "enough so it doesn't matter whether I'm rich or poor." "I know now," I said. "And I'll feel so much better about it all if I tell Chet—" "Diane!" White, tense lines had suddenly appeared at the corners of his mouth. "I'd much rather you didn't." I stared at him, amazed at what I could see was real anger, and he smiled, relaxing a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I suppose I take the fact that I haven't any money a little too seriously. But it's really important t0 me — I want you to be sure before you do anything about Barr. You mustn't—" His voice softened. "You (Continued on page 65) 33