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Show Great Love By BARBARA ANN BENEDICT (Associated Newspapers WNU Service.) ALICIA WYLIE felt perspiration perspira-tion on her face. She held her hands in her lap, tightly clenched beneath her evening eve-ning bag. She tried not to listen to the sighs of disappointment and the brutally frank remarks that people In the audience were making all around her. She thought: "Oh, why don't they begin? Why don't they give Alfred a chance? Why can't they be kind?" She remembered with a cold fear nudging at her heart the reaction of the paid admissions when the tiieater manager, obviously distressed, dis-tressed, announced that because of a sudden attack of laryngitis Myron Corbin would be unable to fulfill his engagement but that a substitute. Alfred Deems by name, whom the critics believed was a rising young genius, had been secured. The orchestra leader', standing on his pedestal, raised his baton. There was a crash of music. Dowagers, slim young things and stiff-shirted men ceased their buzz of talk. They faced the stage, settled in their seats, their faces resigned, skeptical, skepti-cal, bored. Alfred Deems appeared on the stage. He was young and dark and handsome, but his evening clothes seemed ill-fitting and there was an awkwardness to his movements. He smiled at the great crowd almost apologetically. Alicia Wylie's hands were still. She sat there pale and rigid and tense, watching Alfred Deems. And presently pres-ently Alfred began to sing. His You've never heard of him. He's a singer, an unknown. But some day, Myron, he's going to be great. As great as you. Oh, I know it! Now he's at the bottom of the ladder lad-der looking up. He's never been given a chance, all the breaks have been against him. He's met with defeat at every turn. But if he were given the opportunity he'd make good. I'm sure he would. And, oh, Myron, you can help him. You alone. And I've come to you to ask the favor beeause because I love him and I want him to have his chance." She stopped, paler stilj, breathing heavily. "And just how," he asked tone-lessly, tone-lessly, "can I er help this young man to achieve success?" Alicia told him, explained her wild, desperate plan, so fantastic as to seem ridiculous. Then she stopped again and waited, her face a deathly white, her heart seeming to have ceased its beating. "Don't you see," she said, "I love him." And at last Myron Corbin smiled. "No man," he said, "is worth doing what you have done." He took her hands in his and she looked up at him tremulously. "Then then you'll do it?" He nodded. "Once I did not think it possible for a human being to love more than I loved you. Now I know I was wrong. My reward, dear girl, comes from knowing that the feeling of affection and respect and admiration admira-tion I have for you is justified." Alicia closed her eyes and swayed toward him; and he caught her in his arms . . . The concert was over. The applause ap-plause was deafening. Again and again Alfred Deems came out to bow and smile his appreciation. At last Alicia gained a place backstage, back-stage, and after an hour she was admitted to the dressing room of the newly made celebrity. Alfred was alone. He stood in the center of the floor, even as Myron Corbin had done in his palatial apartment a week ago. "Alfred! Oh, my darling!" She ran to him, flung herself into his arms, sobbed on his shoulder. But Alfred's arms did not hold her close. They hung at his side, lifeless, unwelcoming. un-welcoming. And at length- she sensed that something was wrong and drew away, looked up into his eyes. "Alfred! What's the matter?" "Matter?" He laughed bitterly. "Matter? So now that I have climbed the ladder, now that I am a success, I'm good enough for even you, eh?" "Alfred, whatever are you saying?" say-ing?" "Oh, don't pull that innocent stuff. It's disgusting. There's no use trying try-ing to act surprised, because I know it all." "Know it? Know what?" He turned on her furiously. "Know that you were in love with Myron Corbin, know that you practically lived with him in Paris two years ago, know that you were up in his room a week ago. Oh, it's revoltingto revolt-ingto think that I ever respected and and loved a girl such as you!" "Alfred! For the love of heaven! Alfred! You're wrong! Wrong! I can explain! Explain it all. It was !" But Alfred Deems only laughed scornfully, and thrust her away. "Fool!" he hissed. "To think you can come back to me now. Get out of my way. I must go. Tomorrow I sing in Chicago. And tomorrow I'll leave you behind forever. Just a bad memory." Alicia reached toward him. Words stuck in her throat. She sank to her knees, lifted up her arms pleadingly. plead-ingly. But Alfred Deems had opened the door, and with one final, contemptuous con-temptuous look in her direction he went out and the door slammed behind be-hind him. Alicia closed her eyes and swayed toward him; and he caught her in his arms ... voice, a rich tenor, floated out over the auditorium, lifted to the balconies balco-nies full and clear. The faint sound of rustling and whispering conversation conversa-tion stopped abruptly. The expression expres-sion of skeptical resignation changed to surprise and wonder and then amazed delight. A wave of relief and joy surged through Alicia's blood. For the first time she trusted her eyes to look at the people about her. And what she saw filled her with a rapturous joy. Tears came into her eyes, and through them as through a wavering mist she saw the tall form of Alfred Deems, no longer awkward or self conscious or shy, lifting up his voice to its greatest great-est heights. A week ago Alicia had called at the apartment of Myron Corbin. The great singer stood in his living room and bowed very formally over the hand she extended. Behind them a serving man closed the door. Myron Corbin , looked up, took a step forward for-ward and lifted his arms as if to clasp her to him. "Darling, it was good of you to come. So good." "Please, Myron. I I only wanted to ask a favor." "Anything, my dear. Anything at all. You know I'd go the ends of the world to please you, I've told you so a hundred times." Alicia's hand, holding a cigarette, trembled as she looked up at him. 'Oh, Myron, you'll probably hate me for this." "Nothing you could do would make me hate you, my dear. Come, what is it?" He sat beside her, smiled, took one of her hands in his. 'Myron do do you still love me?" "Most desperately, my dear. More than life itself. It's been that way since we met in Paris two years ago." He smiled whimsically. "Please don't tell- me you've changed your mind. The shock would be too great. You see I've resigned myself to life without you the only thing I've ever wanted and not been able to have." The cigarette in Alicia's hand was cold. She looked at him, wide-eyed and afraid. "Oh, Myron, it's it's bo hard. I ''now you'll think me crazy." "There, there." He patted her 'tiand. "Please give me the one chance at happiness that still remains re-mains the opportunity to do something some-thing for you." Alicia swallowed, and plunged. "Myron, if you love me you can understand un-derstand how I feci when I say I love another, more desperately, more madly. Please don't look that way, Myron. I know it must hurt. I know how selfish I am. But but try and understand how you've felt toward me, what madness must have driven me to this." She paused, and when he only looked at her, pale and silent she rushed on. "It's Alfred Deems. |