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1950_08_05--032_SP [Clever Women Are Dangerous Too]

62 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST August 5, 1950 n rersonnas really have 9 lives!" precision-made fit injector razors perfectly 9 "A hat uould it cost approximately to replace the light fixture up there?" rxs SATVIDAY IEVICNING Post Now there's a choice of injector blades .. . so be sure to try PERSONNA the shave injector blade A recent independent survey among 5,000 men revealed that Personnas averaged 9 smooth shaves per blade. You may get substantially more—or somewhat less. But here's a sporting offer you just can't afford to pass up: use as many blades as you wish from a pack of l'ersonnas. If you are not fully enthused, return the dispenser to us for a full refund! Personna Blade Co., Inc., 43 West 57th Street, New York 19, New York. PERSONNA injector blades world's finest-20 for 89*, 10 for 590 also Personna Double and Single Edge Blades in Zipak Dispenser. 10 for SI, .5 for 500. Same money-back guarantee. (Continued from Page 59) "That you were thirty-two. Not the way you kiss." "Thank you," said Charlie, who had never considered that he might be beyond the kissing stage. "We could be .very happy, Imogene.P "Are you proposing to me, Charlie?" Imogene said. " Not exactly." The habit of caution was hard to throw off. Charlie smiled the disarming smile he'd been practicing for the last four years, his only defense against the clever women who had tried to run him. "But we could think about it, couldn't we?" "I don't think much about anything," Imogene said truthfully. "How soon could you make me a cover girl, Charlie darlie?" She's mercenary, Charlie thought. But so are the clever ones. And at least all Imogene wants is fame. The smart ones would want a joint bank account. He kissed her on the forehead, like a father. "Any time you wish, honeybunch." His voice sounded strange in his own ears, but he was game. "Lovey dovey." Later that night, in his bachelor flat, Charlie lay awake and took stock of the situation. He was getting on, there was no denying that, and it was time he settled down. He'd been working too hard lately. You could flog a middleaged horse just so far; then he either lay down and died or went to the old folks' home. He wasn't middle-aged yet, but he believed firmly in the saying, "It's later than you think." Each morning when he woke he expected to find he'd suddenly lost ten years overnight. Charlie had been too long badgered and bullied by clever women, and Imogene looked like the ideal escape. Tomorrow he would ask her to marry him. . . . Next morning was Saturday, so Charlie didn't have to go to the office. Instead he went to Joy's flat. At ten o'clock, having allowed the girls an hour to get some work done, he pressed the buzzer and waited for another view of the next-to-nothing bathing suit. The door was opened by Joy in the lemon linen sugar bag. " Where is she?" " Who?" said Charlie. " Miss Intellect. I've been waiting for her since half past seven." Joy kicked the door shut behind them. "She doesn't know it, but she's unemployed." "It doesn't matter," said Charlie. "I wouldn't want any wife of mine to work." " You haven't got a wife," Joy said. Then she looked at him again. "Have you?" "Not yet," said Charlie. "But it's only a matter of time." "Who's the lottery winner?" Joy said. " Imogene," said Charlie. Joy blinked, and pulled slowly and savagely at her hair. "Charlie, you weren't serious yesterday... . Oh, no!" She suddenly spun and folded onto a couch, burying her face in a cushion and shaking convulsively. "It's no laughing matter." Charlie sat down carefully in a chair; he was putting on weight or they were making pants tighter this year. Joy continued to shake like a girl riding pillion on a motor bike, her face still buried in the cushion. Charlie watched the spasm for a few minutes, then said, " I repeat, it's no laughing matter." Joy lifted her face from the cushion. Her hair hung down like dark seaweed, her eyes were red and glistening, and her nose twitched to one side as she sniffled. " I think you —" Then Charlie took a second look at her. "You're crying!" " I've got something in my eye," Joy sniffled. "No woman in her right senses would waste tears over you." "You were crying over me," said Charlie, full of a Wonder and tenderness; he felt like someone's mother being helped across a busy street. "Joy, I didn't know! I never —" But Joy had left him, slamming the bedroom door behind her as the frontdoor buzzer buzzed. Charlie, still in a daze, climbed carefully out of his chair. " Why, Charlie darlie," said Imogene, as he opened the door to her. " Have you been here all night?" "Certainly not," Charlie said. "If you remember, I didn't leave you until two o'clock." Imogene closed her eyes and rocked her head ecstatically. "Oh, I can remember it just like it was last night. Daddy wanted to know why I'd stayed out so late. He was really wild, till I told him you were going to make me famous. He said you must be a miracle worker." She opened one eye. " I didn't tell him we were going to be married, Charlie darlie." "That's good," said Charlie, still with half his mind on Joy. Both eyes came open suddenly, like searchlights. " Charlie!" The bedroom door opened and Joy came in. She had dried her eyes, stopped sniffling and combed her hair. There was no sign of the broken blossom of a few minutes ago. " Hello, Imogene darling," she said. "Charlie and I were talking about you only a few moments ago. We said we'll ask Imogene to go on the picnic with us "'WW hhaatt picnic?" said Imogene and Charlie. "We're going to Coogee. Charlie has his car, and it's much too hot for work." "But what'll I wear?" said Imogene and Charlie. " You, Imogene, can wear the Bikini suit," Joy said. "And Charlie can hire trunks at the beach." "It's a wonderful idea," Imogene said. " I just love the beach, don't you, Charlie darlie?" "Charlie darlie used to be a surf god," Joy said. "He gave it up when they cut the legs off bathing suits." "Sour women have an acid wit," said Charlie; he'd been mistaken about the tender feeling for Joy. He was just a softie for tears, that was all. " Have you packed the basket for the picnic we've been planning so long for?" " You have a preposition hanging there," Joy said. "That's not all I'd like to hang," Charlie said. Joy smiled at him. "You love your little joke," she said. " We'll call in somewhere and buy a picnic lunch." "I haven't been on a picnic since I was a child," Imogene said. "Only yesterday," said Joy, and closed the door behind them. The three of them crowded into the front seat of Charlie's convertible, Imogene practically in Charlie's pocket and Joy practically in the door pocket. "Comfy, darling?" Joy said. "Oh, yes, thank you," said Imogene. "I meant Charlie," Joy said, and smiled sweetly at Imogene. "After all, he's my oldest friend. I can't think of anyone older. Had you noticed the gray in his hair?" Charlie shot the car forward with a jerk, but Joy was expecting it. She just smiled at him while she helped Imogene down into the seat again. "Don't mind him, Imogene. He got his driver's license in a tank." In the city, while Charlie sat in stolid silence and Imogene sat almost in his lap, Joy disappeared into a department store. She returned with a picnic basket. "Righto." She squeezed back into the car. "Let's go, lovers." The beach at Coogee was crowded. Charlie left the girls and headed for the men's dressing rooms. He hired a pair of trunks, sucked in his stomach and went out to find a place on the sands. Women, he thought. They tried to trap you with either sex appeal or sobs. If they got you with neither, they (Continued on Page 64)


1950_08_05--032_SP [Clever Women Are Dangerous Too]
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