She Loved a Cad!

So worried did Viki become that she felt must confide in someone. That man who clicked his fingers in the hall—he looked a fatherly old chap.

That was the idea, and off she skipped. The fatherly man was most sympathetic, but said that this was rather outside his normal duties. The real counterpart of the kind old ecclesiastic of the novels, who, too old or ugly to allow personal considerations to intervene, directs the love affairs of all the characters, was here (for different reasons of course). Salient staff. (Open to the public Mon. and Fri. evenings).

So off she slipped again. In Salient room she found a motherly-looking woman. She confided her woes in a tearful voice. She described her man. Something in the awe-struck countenance of her spiritual guide made her stop.

"Do you know him?" she gurgled.

"I know everything," answered the other. "I'm the Sec. of the Exec."

"Tell me all," wailed Viki. "I can bear it."

In sepulchral tones came the reply, "That is Gordime Wiley, and he is a . . . "

"Yes?"

"The man you love is a Communist."

* * *

Well, we have got our heroine into a rum mess. What can she do? What would you do if you found you were in love with a Communist? I can hardly wait for next issue—Don't you feel the same?