Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

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Meanwhile, the gossip columnists were in full cry after their latest romance — the one between Chris and Hester Carr. They were seen here, there, everywhere together. Guesses were beginning to be made about when they'd be married. The pictures of Hester in the papers had all given way to pictures of Hester with Chris — and in all of them she had a proud, defiant air of ownership. It was inevitable that, late one night, they should come into the night club where I worked. They were with a party, and they entered just as I was singing, making an impolite amount of noise. I didn't mind, though. All I could see was Chris' face — white, reckless, unsmiling except when Hester turned to him and said something. Then his lips would twist briefly, meaninglessly, before they relaxed again into an unhappy downward curve. I finished my song and ran off the stage, into my dressing room. I didn't want to be near that party at the big table near the dance floor, and in any event I had to make a quick change for my next appearance. kA Y dressing room was at the end of ■"' a corridor which also passed the entrance to the ladies' powder room, and just as I stepped out to return to the dance floor, I saw Hester going, alone, into the powder room. I don't know why, but I followed her. At first, when I entered, I didn't know where she had gone. The room seemed empty, except for the maid at the dressing tables. Then I heard Hester's voice, filled with a peculiar sort of urgency, and I realized she was at one of the telephones which were set in niches at the far end of the room. I walked over to a dressing table, motioning Clara, the maid, to be silent, and pretending to be busy with a powder puff in case Hester saw me. "Hello, darling," she was saying in a low voice. "I just had to slip away and call you. . . . Oh, dreadful. I'm so horribly bored. I wish I were with you. . . . But you know how Dad is when he sets his mind on something . . . and how he feels about you. . . ." I was so startled that for a moment I lost track of her conversation. What did she mean? What did her father have to do with Chris? Then I heard her say, softly and tenderly, "But I think I can get away tomorrow night. Dad thinks I'm going to have dinner with Chris. . . . I'll meet you . . . yes, at your apartment . . . eight o'clock. . . ." I didn't wait to hear any more. I slipped out of the room, down the corridor and out behind the bandshell to the dance floor. My blood was whirling in my ears; my feet danced with excitement. That had been a man on the other end of the telephone connection — Hester's low, intimate lone had made that plain. And, if she was making an appointment with him, it could mean only one thing: she wasn't in love with Chris, and she didn't even think she was! Then why did she pretend to be? Why did she insist that he marry her? Suddenly, bits of gossip I had read joined with Hester's cryptic reference 64 to her father's wishes, and everything was plain. "You know how Dad is when he sets his mind on something." That was it, of course. I remembered reading, now, that Chris was the first one of his daughter's masculine friends who had ever pleased old Mr. Carr — that he distrusted all the playboys and cafe society hangers-on she had always preferred until now, and had even forbidden her to go out with most of them. In a flash I divined what Hester was doing. She intended to marry Chris, whom she did not love, merely in order to set herself free from her father's supervision. As a married woman, particularly as the wife of a band leader whose irregular hours and road tours would keep him away from home most of the time, she would be her own mistress, able to come and go as she pleased, to see anyone she liked, to indulge in any wanton, careless affair she wished. She was wicked — utterly unprincipled and immoral. She was planning to wreck Chris' life for her own pleasure. Now the orchestra was beginning to play for my song. I went through it mechanically, my brain buzzing with plans that I discarded before they were even half formed. One thing I must do — see Chris. As soon as my song was over I hastily scribbled a note, asking Chris to come to my dressing room, gave it to a waiter, and told him to deliver it, if possible, without being seen. Back in the dressing room I sat twisting my fingers together, hardly daring to hope he would come. And then there was a sound outside the half-open door, and he stood there, looking at me. I tried not to let my face show the anguish I felt at seeing him. Seen closer, he was even more tired and unhappy looking than I had thought; and his voice, when he spoke, had lost all of its old vitality. "You're singing fine, Binnie," he said, still standing just inside the door. I BRUSHED that aside. "Darling," I ' said, "I just overheard something. Something important to us." And then, quickly, I told him what I had heard Hester say on the telephone, and the conclusions Ihaddrawnfromit. Unbelief was in his face at first, then wonder, and at last anger. "That's right," he exclaimed when I mentioned the appointment Hester had made. "She told me she was going to some Junior League affair or other. Maybe — maybe that was a girl she was talking to." "This was no girl," I said positively. "Do you suppose . . . ?" he said, still unconvinced. "Of course!" I said. "You know already she'll do anything to get what she wants — stoop to any trick. She's only using you, Chris." He slapped one clenched fist into the palm of the other hand. "I'm going to ask her! I'll — " "No, no!" I cried, grasping his arm as he turned to leave the room. "You mustn't. That would be warning her. I've got a better plan." "What?" But I wouldn't tell him. I didn't dare, because in a way it was a dangerous plan, and it might not work. If for any reason I was mistaken— or if Hester had seen me listening while she talked on the tele FAUIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR