Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1940-07-26

the 1lrSC time since ne naO entered
that quiet room. She said softly, but
with shaken urgency, when there's
so little real love in the world, how
can you two waste yours like this =?
You mustn't let her divorce you,
Brent. You must do something, stop
her some way. Oh, can't you see, it
makes Griff's' death so purposeless,
so futile My poor Griff."
Brent got to his feet. There was
determination in his face, his tone.
He said, 81 won't let her-not without
seeing her. Not without being sure
she wants it this way" He put out
his hand and Pat laid hers in it. He
said, 81 can never get over being
grateful to YOU"
But Pat shook her lovely head.
ITO Griff," she whispered.
4
The elevator door changed shut be-
hind Brent and he made his way with
long eager strides down the corridor
to the familiar door with SAUNDERS
printed upon it in golden script. The
little reception room was just the
same, deep carpet, modern furniture,
pale wood and white leather. But
Brent scarcely noticed. A girl with
a pale, sculptured head sat at small
desk, her brows raised inquiringly,
an impersonal smile on her face.
"I'd like to see Mrs. Randolph"
Brent hoped his voice sounded natur-
al, but he wasn't sure.
I'm sorry" The blonde girl SEEM
ed to freeze. There was sudden, in
explicable wariness in her tone. "Mrs.
Randolph hasn't been at the studio for
several days."
She was a little startled at the look
of defeat which settled on the face of
the dark young man before her. Even
if he had been sent out to get story,
there was no reason for him to be
quite so crushed by failure. None of
the other reporters had taken it like
this. Most of them had tried to get
some information out of her and, fail
ing that, had asked to see Mr.. Saun-
ders. One of them had taken her out
to lunch.
The tall young man asked sudden
ly, interrupting her reverie, "Can ]
see Mr.. Saunders?"
Now he was running true to form.
The sculptured blonde asked auto
matically, "Who shall 1 say is calling
Randolph" The young mans tone
was grim. Brent Randolph"
The receptionist swallowed and he1
blue eyes widened with a sudden, con-
Stunning interest. 1t was all she could
do to wait until Brent Randolph had
disappeared into Mr.. Saunders pri-
vate office before she hurried back to
tell her friend in the layout depart
ment all about it.
Entering that office, memory welled
up in Brent, bitter-sweet, unbearably
poignant. That window filled with
sunlight now, where he had stood with
March one unforgettable night, where
they had watched the lights below and
the far, unfathomable stars and he
had told her that he loved her. There
he had held her in his arms and had
felt for the first = no, the second
time, the warm softness of her lips
There he had learned of her love, her
need ofhim that was as urgent as the
hunger he felt for her.
Now he faced Clay Saunders across
his perfectly appointed desk. And
Clay said, his tone clipped, unfriend-
ly, "Well, Randolph"
No more than that. He did not
ask Brent to sit, nor did Brent make
any move to lower his lean length
into the chair beside him. Instead
Clay got to his feet and they stood
there, eyes almost on level. 1t was
as though both knew that this inter-
view between them must be brief to
the point of terseness.
Brent said, "I'm looking for my
wife. 1 went to her apartment but
she wasn't there. Evidently she hasn't
been there for some time. There was
an accumulation of mail in her box.
I came directly here, but the girl out
side told me she hasn't been here eth