Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

used so easily, arguments not making acts right or wrong so much as denying the existence of either right or wrong entirely. "I don't know," said Mother Laurence. "But of course I know when one or two or three apparently harmless acts bring us a harvest of bitter regret and shame, then it seems to me only common sense to decide that there is something unwise in those acts. You left me a happy, brilliant, good child, Tamara, two years ago. What have you done to yourself, if there is no wrong in it? Why are you so unhappy?" DECAUSE life is so unfair to wo»-' men," Tarn said soberly. "Because for something you did without thinking— without meaning any harm — you — you find yourself — miserable — " She began to cry again as she spoke; her soaked handkerchief was wholly inadequate now; her fingertips were wet, and tears fell on her blouse. "I am so sorry, Tamara," Mother Laurence said. "It has been a shock — a severe shock to me. Your mother — no, she would not be able to help us now. And your sister — your brother — you wrote me that they are not the sort that — It is all too bad, Tamara, if I had not happened to meet you today, would you have come to see me?" "I don't think so," Tamara said. "To whom would you have gone?" "I don't know." "We must think this out," said the nun pondering. "I meant," Tamara faltered, her lips trembling again — "I meant my life to be so different! I tried; I did try." "I think I have an idea," Mother Laurence said, after a pause. She sighed and raised her reflective look to Tamara's face. She saw the girl's thinness and pallor, her already altering figure, the shabbiness of her dress, the white young face marked with tears. "I think I know what we can do," she added. "Tamara, when all this is over, and you are free again, will you promise to come and see me every few weeks?" "How can it ever be over?" the girl demanded dully. "One can't go back of this kind of thing." "We never know. We can always be sorry and start again," the older woman said simply. "Oh, sorry!" the girl said. And she slipped to her knees and buried her wet face and tumbled hair against the nun's knee. Mother Laurence laid a thin gentle hand upon her head. THE Hutton place was more than a ' mile from Belmont Station; Tarn walked it. She carried the smaller suitcase; the heavy one she had left at the checking counter; after all, she knew nothing of her destination. The summer afternoon was very lovely and very still. The road led west toward the hills; an old dirt road under shaggy eucalyptus trees whose sickles carpeted the ground, and whose aromatic breath stole through the warm sweetness of the afternoon like balm. Brush fires were burning the orchards somewhere near; long scarfs of pale blue smoke wound themselves over the quiet gardens and the fields. Tamara had not been in the country for a long time; she drew in deep breaths of it gratefully. A gate marked "Oak Dell" hung straggling in a long line of picket fencing. Great bursts of pampas grasses, rambling roses unpruned and overgrown and throwing savage long arms into the air, dry lilac trees and tangled, indistinguishable masses of low garden growth rose to meet the drooping long whips of the discolored willows and the berried pepper trees. The house was a large frame building with peeling chipped wide steps leading up to a fan-lighted door that was flanked by two bay windows. It had an eastern wing running off to a clump of redwood trees; beyond a kitchen dooryard, where fruit bushes were swaying loaded branches against the fences of all sorts of angled pens and sheds and paddocks, were the fine massive outlines of old stables and hay barns, chicken runs, fowl houses, carriage houses. Mrs. Hutton was a squarely built gray-headed woman in the middle fifties. Her heavy figure was covered with a checked cotton dress over which she had pinned a strip of sacking; she wore an old brown hat and a green eyeshade. She had been gardening. TURN off the hose, Lee Wing!" she ' called, as Tam came up to her. They talked briefly, the older woman's narrowed eyes fixed keenly upon her guest the while. "You're Emily Rogers' friend?" Mary Hutton asked. "Mother Laurence?" "I knew her as Emily Rogers — went to school with her. I'm glad to see you. She didn't tell me your name. Barbara Baker — suppose we call you Barbara Baker? From the Philippines, eh?" Mrs. Hutton said, brisk and If YOUR EYES ARE BROWN, LIKE MERLE ObERONS you'll find new complexion flattery in ITIRRV6LOUS Sp Harmonizing Powder, Rouge, Lipstick, Keyed to the Color of Your Eyes! What enchanting new loveliness it brings — this amazing new discovery by the makers of Marvelous! They studied girls and women of every age and coloring and found that eye color is definitely related to the color of your skin, your hair — that the color of your eyes is the simplest guide to cosmetic shades that are right for you! So whether your eyes are brown, blue, hazel or gray — it's easy now to select cosmetics in correct color harmony to flatter your natural coloring. For the makers of Marvelous have created matching powder, rouge and lipstick, keyed to the color of your eyes! You'll adore the smooth, suede-like finish which Marvelous Powder gives your skin . . . the soft, natural glow of vour Marvelous Rouge . . . the lovely, long-lasting color of Marvelous Lipstick. You can buy each separately (harmonizing Mascara and Eye Shadow, too), but for perfect color harmony, use them together. At drug and department stores, only 55c each (65c1 in Canada). Send for sample Makeup Kit — mail coupon today for generous metal containers of harmonizing powder, rouge and lipstick in the shades that are right for you! ITIARVElOUS Starring in Alexander Korda's "OVER THE MOON" in technicolor DECEMBER, 1939 mATCHED rnnKcup BY RICHARD HUDNUT RICHARD HUDNUT, Depl. M, 693 Fifth Avenue, New York City My eyes are Brown □ Blue □ Hazel Q Gray Q Send me my Makeup Kit. I enclose 104 to help cover mailing costs. Be sure fo check color of your eyes! Name Street _ -C i ty 71