Young Mrs. Roger Horan had life by the tail. Everybody said she looked like Linda Darnelland she did. Everybody said her three children were bright and beautiful. They were. Her pin-clean apartment in ugly, teeming Astoria, across the East River from Upper Manhattan, was not so bad, considering the housing pinch. And her husband. . . .
"You must think I'm crazy not knowing where he is," she told newsmen, with a fine flash of teeth and blue eyes. "But he's Been working all hours, and there's been so much excitement the last couple of days my head hurts."
New York's...
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