“CONTINUED IN ADVERTISING SECTION, PAGE 290”
OR
MAGAZINE FICTION À LA MODE
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Unable to contain himself longer, although he realized the vast futility of it all, Massington seized her in his arms and buried her lovely eyes and hair in the storm of a thousand kisses.
“You love me, Lolo—tell me you love me!” he choked.
“No! no!” she cried, struggling from his clasp with an adorable coquetry. “No, it must not be.”
Massington, for the moment, found himself unable to speak. Then, “Why?” he asked simply, softly.
“Because,” the girl replied, with a cunning moué—“because
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In the finest homes and at the best-appointed tables CAMPBELL’S TOMATO SOUP is recognized as a dinner course of faultless quality and suited to the most important occasions.
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I don’t yet know my own mind,” she finished.
Massington moved toward her. The amber glow of a small table lamp lighted up the bronze glory of Lolo’s tumbled tresses. And her eyes were as twin Chopin nocturnes dreaming out the melody of a far-off, unattainable love.
He paused before daring to lift his voice against the wonderful silence that, like midnight on southern Pacific seas, hung over her.
Presently, “When you do decide, what then?” he ventured.
“When I do decide,” she told him, “it will be forever. But ere I give you my answer, ere we take the step that must mean so much in our lives, we must both be strong enough to remember that
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