He filed the growl49 letter for the diplomatic pouch50, and went home uneasy at having bypassed the chain of command and wasted a work day. He did also feel vague pride in this direct contact with the President, but that was a human reaction. In his professional judgment51, this contact was most likely a bad thing. Byron was reclining in the garden, eating grapes from a bowl and reading a Superman comic book. Scattered52 on the grass de him were perhaps two dozen more comic books, a patchwork53 of lurid54 covers. "Hi, Dad," he said. "How about this treasure? Franz collects them." (Franz was the butler.) "He says he's been panhandling or buying them from tourists for years." Pug was stupefied at the sight. Comic books had been a cause of war in their household until Byron had gone off to Columbia. Pug had forbidden them, torn them up, burned them, fined Byron for possession of them. Nothing had helped. The boy had been like a dope fiend. With difficulty Pug refrained from saying something harsh. Byron was twenty-four. "How do you feel?" 'H "Go this is a great Superman. It makes me ungry," Byron said. d, homesick, reading these things." Franz brought Pug a highball on a tray. Pug sat silently with it waiting for the butler to go. It took a while, because Franz wiped a glass-top table, cut some flowers, and fooled with a loose screen door to the tennis court. He had a way of lingering within earshot. Meanwhile, Byron read the Superman through, put it on the pile, and looked idly at his father. Pug relaxed and sipped55 his drink. Franz was reentering the house. "Briny56, that was quite a tale you told us yesterday. The son laughed. "I guess I got kind of carried away, seeing you and Mom again. Also Berlin had a funny effect on m-. "You've had access to unusual information. I don't know if there's another American who went from Cracow to Warsaw after the war broke out." 'Oh, I guess it's all been in the papers and magazines." "That's where you're wrong. There's a lot of arguing between the Germans and the Poles-the few Poles who got away and can still argue -about who's committed what atrocities in Poland. An eyewitness57 account document." like yours would be an important up another comic book. "Possibly." Byron shrugged, picking "I want you to write it up. I'd like to forward your account to the Office of Naval58 Intelligence." 'Gosh, Dad, aren't you overestimating59 it?" "No. I'd like you to get at it tonight.
"I don't have a typewriter," Byron said with a yawn. 'There's one in the library," Pug said. 'Oh, that's right, I saw it. Well, okay." With such casual assents60, Byron had often dodged61 his homework in the past. But his father let it go. He was clinging to a belief that Byron had matured under the German bombing. "That fellow Slote came by today. Said you helped out a lot in Warsaw. Brought water to the embassy, and such." "Well, yes. I got stuck with the water job." 'Also there was an incident at the front line with the Swedish ambassador. You climbed a tower under German fire, while Slote had to hide this Jastrow girl in a farmhouse3. It seems to be very much on his mind." Byron opened Horror Comics, with a cover picture of a grinning skeleton carrying a screaming half-naked girl up a stone staircase. "Oh, yes. That was right before we crossed no-man's-land. I made a sketch62 of the road." "Why does Slote dwell on it?" "Well, it's about the last thing that happened before we left Warsaw, so I guess it remained in his mind." "He intends to write me a letter of commendation about you." "He does? That's fine. Has he got any word on Natalie?" "Just that she's gone to Stockholm. You'll start on that report tonight?" 'Sure." Byron left the house after dinner and returned at two in the morning. Pug was awake, working in the library and worrying about his son, who blithely63 told him he had gone with other Americans to the opera. Under his arm Byron carried a new copy of Mein Kampf in English. Next day when Pug left the house BYron was up and dressed, lounging on the back porch in slacks and a sweater, drinking coffee and reading Mein Kampf-At seven in the evening the father found Byron in the same place, in the same chair, drinking a highball. He was well into the thick tome, which lay open on his lap. Rubbing bleary eyes, he gave his father a listless wave. Pug said, 'Did you start on that report?" "I'll get to it, Dad. Say, this is an interesting book. Did you read it?" "I did, but I didn't find it interesting. About fifty pages of those ravings give you the picture. I thought I should finish it, so I did, but it was like wading64 through mud."Byron shook his head. "Really amazing," and turned the page. He went out again at night, returned late, and fell asleep with his clothes on, an old habit that ground on Pug's nerves. Byron woke around eleven, and found himself undressed and under the covers, his clothes draped on a chair, with a note propped65 on them: Write THAT GODDAMN REPORT. He was'idling along the Kurfilstendamm that afternoon, with Mein Kampf under his arm, when Leslie Slote went hung past him, halted, and turned. "Well, there you are! That's luck. I've been trying to get hold of you. Are you coming back to the States with us or not? Our transportation's set for Thursday." "I'm not sure. How about some coffee and pastry? Let's be a couple of berliners." Slote pursed his lips. "To tell the truth, I skipped lunch. All right. What the devil are you reading that monstrosity for?" "I think it's great."Great! That's an unusual comment." They sat at a table in an enormous sidewalk cafe, where potted flowering bushes broke up the expanse of tables and chairs, and a brass66 band played gay waltzes in the sunshine. "God, this is the life," Byron said, as they gave orders to a bowing, smiling waiter. Look at these nice, Polite, cordial, jolting67, happy Berliners, will you? Did you ever see a nicer city? So clean! All those fine statues and baroque buildings, like that Marvelous opera, and all the spanking68 new modern ones, and all the gardens and trees-why, I've never seen such a green, clean city! Berlin's almost like a city built in a forest. And all the canals, and the quaint69 little boats-&d you see that tug70 that sort of tips its smokestack to get under the bridges? Completely charming. The only thing is, these pleasant folks have just been blowing the hell out of Poland, machine-gunning people from the sky-I've got the scar to prove it-pounding a city just as nice as Berlin to a horrible pulp71. It's a puzzle, you might say." Slote shook his head and smiled. "The contrast between the war front and the back area is always startling. No doubt Paris was as charming as ever while Napoleon was out doing his butcheries." 'Slote, you can't tell me the Germans aren't strange." 'Oh, yes, the Germans are strange." "Well, diaes why I've been reading this book, to try to figure them out. It's their leader's book. Now, it turns out this is the writing of an absolute nut. The Jews are secretly running the world, he says. That's his whole message.
They're the capitalists, but they're the Bolsheviks too, and they're conspiring72 to destroy the German people, who by rights should really be running the world. Well, he's going to become dictator, see, mipe out the Jews, crush France, and carve off half of Bolshevist Russia for more German living space. Have I got it right so far?" 'A bit simplified, but yes-pretty much." Slote sounded amused but uneasy, glancing at the tables nearby. 'Okay. Now, all these nice Berliners like this guy. Right? They voted for him. They fonow him. They salute73 him. They cheer him. Don't they? How is that? Isn't that very strange? How come he's their leader? Haven't they read this book? How come they didn't put him in a padded cell? Don't they have insane asylums74? And who do they put in there, if not this guy?" Slote, while stuffing his pipe, kept looking here and there at the people around them. Satisfied that nobody eavesdropping75, he said in a low tone, "Are you just discovering the phenomenon of A(was) dolf Hitler?" 'I just got shot in the head by a German. That sort of called my attention to it." 'well, you won't learn much from Mein Katnpf. That's just froth on top of the kettle." "Do you understand Hitler and the Germans?" Slote lit his pipe and stared at the air for several seconds. Then he spoke76, with a wry46 little smile of academic condescension77. 'I have an opinion, the result of a lot of study." "Can I hear it? I'm interested. "It's a terribly long story, Byron, and quite involved." Slote glanced around again. 'Some other time and place I'll be glad to, but" "Would you give me the names of books to read, then?,) "Are you serious? You'd let yourself in for some dull plodding78." "I'll read anything you tell me to. "Well, let me have your book." On the Hyleaf of Mein Kampf, Slote listed authors and tides all the way down the page, in a neat slanted hand, in purple Polish ink. Running his eye down the list, Byron felt his heart sink at the unfamiliar79 array of Teutonic authors, each name followed by a heavy book tide, some by two:... Treitschke-Moe -van den7 Bnwk-Fries-Menzel-FichteSchlegeArndt-jahn-Riihs-Lagarde-Langbehn-Spengi if... Among them, like black raisins81 in much gray dough82, a few names from his contemporarycivilization course at Columbia caught his eye: Luther-Kant-Hegel-Schopenhauer-Nietzsche. He remembered that course as a nuisance and a nightmare. He had Passed with a D minus, after frantic83 all-night cramming84 of smudgy lecture notes from the fraternity files. Slote drew a heavy line, and added more books with equally forbidding authors' names:... Santayana-Mann-Veblen-Renan-Heine-Kolnai-Rauschning..... "Below the line are critics and analysts," he remarked as he wrote. "Above are some German antecedents of Hitler. I think you must grasp these to grasp him." Byron said dolefully, "Really? The philosophers too? Hegel and Schopenhauer? Why? And Martin Luther, for pity sake." Contemplating85 the list with a certain and satisfaction, Slote added a name or two as he pulled hard at his pipe, making the bowl hiss86. "My view is that Hitler and the Nazis87 have grown out of the heart of German culture-a cancer, maybe, but a, uniquely German phenomenon. Some very clever men have given me hell for holding this opinion. They insist the same thing could have happened anywhere, given the same conditions: defeat in a major war, a harsh peace treaty, ruinous inflation, mass unemployment, Communism on the march, anarchy89 in the streets-all leading to the rise of a demagogue, and a reign34 of terror. But I-" The waiter was approaching. Slote shut up and said not a word while they were being served. Watching the waiter until he went out of sight, the Foreign Service man drank coffee and ate cake. Then he started again, almost in an undertone. "But I don't believe it. To me Nazism90 is unthinkable without its roots in German nineteenth-century thought: romanticism, idealism, nationalism, the whole outpouring. It's in those books. If you're not prepared to read every word of Hegel's Philosophy of History, for instance, give up. It's basic." He shoved the book back to Byron, open at the flyleaf. "Well, there you are, for a starter." "Tacitus?" Byron said. "Why Tacitus? Isn't he a Roman historian?" "Yes. Do you know about Arrninius, and the Battle of the Teutoburger Forest?" "No, I don't." "Okay. In the year 9 A.D Byron, a German war leader named Arminius stopped the Romans at the Rhine, once and for all, and so secured the barbarian91 sanctuary92 in the heart of Europe. It's a key event in world history. It led eventually to the fall of Rome. It's affected93 all European politics and war to this hour. So I believe, and therefore I think you should read Tacitus's account of the campaign. Either you go into these things, or you don't." Byron kept nodding and nodding, his eyes narrowed and attentive94. "You've read all these books? Every one?" Slote regarded the younger man quizzically, gnawing95 his pipe. "I haven't retained them as well as I should, but, yes, I have." 'What you'reactually trying to tell me, I imagine, is to go peddle96 my papers, that this is a subject for Rhodes Scholars." "Not at all, but it is a hard subject. Now, Byron, I'm really overdue97 at the embassy. Are you or aren't you coming with us? We fly to Oslo Thursday, and from there to London. Then we just take our chancesdestroyer, freighter, ocean liner, maybe an airplane trip via Lisbon-whatever turns up." Byron said, 'I"at are Natalie's plans? She got kind of snappish with me toward the end, and wouldn't talk much." Slote looked at his watch. 'She was disagreeable and vague with me, too. I really don't know." He hesitated. "I'll tell you something else. You may not like it. You may not believe it. But it's so, and possibly you'd be better off knowing it." "Go ahead." 'I asked her about you, whether you planned to return to Siena. Her answer was, "Well, I hope not. I sincerely hope I never see Byron Henry again, and if you ever get a chance, please tell him so with my compliments."-You look surprised. Didn't you have an argument before she left? I was positive you had." Byron, trying to compose his face, said, "Not exactly. She just seemed grouchy98 as hell." Slote said, "She was in a gruesome mood. Said she had a bad backache from all the train riding, for one thing. Very likely she meant nothing by it. I know she felt grateful to you. As indeed I do." Byron shook his head. "I can't say I've ever understood her." Slote glanced at the check and said, tucking bright-colored marks under a saucer, 'well, look, Byron, there's no time to discuss Natalie Jastrow. I'll tell you this. I've had no peace of mind since the day I first met her two years ago, at a very stupid cocktail99 party on the Quai Voltaire." "Why don't you marry her?" Byron said, as Slote started to rise. The older man fell back in his chair, and looked at him for several seconds. "All right. I'm not at all sure I won' Byron, if she'll have me." "Oh, she'll have you. I'll tell you what. I guess I'll stay on here with my folks for a while. I won't go to Oslo." Slote stood, holding out his hand. "I'll give your passport and so forth to your father's yeoman. Good luck." Byron said, shaking hands and gesturing at Mein Kampf, "I appreciate the lecture and the list." 'Small return," Slote said, 'for services rendered." 'Will you let me know," Byron said, "if you get word before you leave Berlin about where Natalie went?" Knocking out his pipe against his palm, Slote said, "Certainly," and hurried off into the sidewalk crowd. Byron ordered more ersatz coffee and opened Mein Kampf, as the cafe band struck up a merry Austrian folk dance.
uG Victor Henry'absence in the States, his wife had tangled100 Dherself in a romance; somethingshehad(s) not done in his much longer absences through almost twenty-five years. There was something liberating101 for her in the start of a war. She was forty-five. Suddenly the rules she had lived by so long seemed slightly out of date. The whole world was shaking itself loose from the past; why shouldn't she, just a wee bit? Rhoda Henry did not articulate this argument. She felt it in her bones and acted on it. Being an ex-beauty, and remaining pretty, she had always drawn102 and enjoyed the attention of men, so she had not lacked opportunities for affairs. But she had been as faithful to Pug Henry as he had been to her. She liked to go to church, her hymn-singing and prayers were heartfelt, she believed in God, she thought Jesus Christ was her Savior-if she had never gone deeply into the matter-and she was convinced in her soul that a married woman ought to be true and good. In the old Navy-wife pastime of ripping apart ladies who had not been true and good, she wielded103 well-honed claws. Setting aside a trivial kiss here and there, only one episode in the dim past somewhat marred104 Rhoda's otherwise perfect record. After an officers' club dance in Manila, where she had soaked up too much champagnePug being out at sea in a fleet exercise-Kip Tollever had brought her home and had managed to get her dress off. Madeline, then a child troubled by bad dreams, had saved the situation by waking and starting to cry. By the time Madeline was comforted, Rhoda had sobered up. Relieved to be back from the brink106, yet bearing Kip no malice107, she had donned a proper housecoat and had amiably108 shooed him out of the house. That had been the end of it. No doubt Kip the next morning had been just as grateful to Madeline. Victor Henry was practically the last man in the Navy he wanted to risk angering. Thereafter, Rhoda was always somewhat kittenish toward Tollever. Now and then she wondered what would have happened had Madeline not awakened109. Would she really have gone through with it? How would she have felt? But she would never know; she did not intend to get that close to trouble again; the wine had been to blame. Still, there had been something titillating110 about being undressed by a man other than old Pug. Rhoda preserved the memory, though she buried it deep. Dr. Palmer Kirby was a shy, serious, ugly man in his middle-fifties. After the dinner party for him, discussing the guests with Sally Forrest, Rhoda had dismissed him as "one of these ghastly B s." just to be sociable111, she had vainly tried her usual coquettish babble112 on Kirby over the cocktails113. "Well, since friend husband's away, Dr. Kirby, I've put you on my right, and we can make nAy114 while the sun shines." "UnL On your right. Thank you."That had almost been the end of it. Rhoda detested115 such heavy men. But he had happened to say at dinner that he was going next day to a factory in Brandenburg. Rhoda offered to drive him there, simply because she had long wanted to see the medieval town, and Kirby in a sense was her husband's guest. On the way they had a dull, decorous lunch at an inn. Over a bottle of Moselle, Kirby warmed up and started to talk about himself and his work. At an alert question she asked him-living with Pug, Rhoda had learned to follow technical talk-Palmer Kirby suddenly smiled. It seemed to her that she had not seen him smile before. His teeth were big, and the smile showed his gums. It was a coarse male smile of knowledge and appetite, far from disagreeable, but startling in the saturnine117 engineer. 'Do you'really care, Mrs. Henry?" said dr. Kirby. "I'd be glad to explain the whole business, but I have a horror of boring a beautiful woman." The smile, the words, the tone, all disclosed that the man had missed none of her coquetry; that on the contra , he dry like her. A bit flustered118, she touched a hand to her hair, tucking the waves behind her small white ears. 'I assure you, it all sounds fascinating. just use words of one syllable119 as much as possible." "Okay, but you brought this on yourself." He told her all about magnetic amplifiers-!magamps," he called them-devices for precise control of voltages and currents, especially in high power. Asking one adroit120 question after another, Rhoda soon drew out the key facts about him. At the California Institute of Technology he had written his doctoral thesis on electromagnetism. At forty he had decided121 to manufacture magnetic amplifiers on his own, instead of settling for an executive post at General Electric or Westinghouse, and security for life. The long struggle for financing had all but sunk him; it was just now paying off. War industries demanded magamps in quantity, and he was first in the field. He had come to Germany because the Germans were ahead of the United States in the quality of some components122. He was studying their techniques and buying their nickel-alloy cores. She also learned that he was a widower123 and a grandfather. He talked about his dead wife, and then they exchanged long confidences about their children's faults and virtues124. Like most men, Kirby loved to talk about himself, once over his shyness. His story of back-breaking money troubles and final success so enthralled125 her that she forgot to be coy, and spoke pleasantly and to the point. Rhoda was most attractive, in fact, when she made the least effort to be. She was the kind of woman who can dazzle a man at first acquaintance by piling everything into the shop window: none of it forced or faked, but in sum nearly all she has to offer. Victor Henry had long since found that out. He had no complaints, though he had once imagined there must be much more. Palmer Kirby was hit hard by this maximum first impact. He ordered a second bottle of Moselle, and they got to Brandenburg almost an hour late. While he went about his business Rhoda strolled through the picturesque126 old town, guidebook in hand; and her mind unaccountably kept wandering to her little misconduct long ago with Kip Tollever. She was abit dizzy from the Moselle, and it wore off slowly. When they returned to Berlin toward evening, Kirby offered to take her to dinner and to the opera. It seemed quite natural to accept. Rhoda rushed home and began raking through her dresses and shoes, pushing her hair this way and that, wishing she could have gone to the hairdresser, hesitating over her perfumes. She was still at it when Kirby came to call for her. She kept him waiting for an hour. In girlhood she had always kept boys waiting. Pug had harshly cured her of the habit, for Navy social life began and ended by the clock, and he would not tolerate embarrassment127 by Rhoda. Keeping Palmer Kirby waiting while she fussed over herself was a delicious little nostalgic folly128, a lovely childish self-indulgence, like eating a banana split. It almost made Rhoda feel nineteen again. The mirror told her a different story, but even it seemed friendly to her that night: it showed shiny eyes, a pretty face, a firm figure in the sheer slip, and arms that were round and thin all the way up, instead of bagging above the elbow as so many women's did. She sailed into the living room wearing the pink suit with gold buttons that she had bought to please Hitler. Kirby sat reading one of Pug's technical journals. He took off big black-rimmed glasses and rose, exclaiming, "Well, don't you look grand!" "I'm awful," she said, taking Kirby's arm, "dawdling129 so long, but you brought it on yourself, asking the old girl out after a hard day." The opera was La Traviata, and they enjoyed discovering that they both had always loved it. Afterward130, he proposed a glimpse of the notorious Berlin night life. It was nothing he'd ever do by himself, he said; still, Berlin night life was the talk of the world, and if it wouldn't offend Mrs. Henry, she might enjoy a peek131 at it. Rhoda giggled132 at the notion. "Well, this seems to be my night to howl, doesn't it? Thank you very much for a disreputable suggestion, which I hasten to accept. Let's hope we don't run into any of my friends." So it happened that when the telephone rang in the Henrys' home at two in the morning-the long-distance call from New York, via the U.S.S. Marbleh in Lisbon-there was nobody to answer. Rhoda was sipping133 champagne105, watching a hefty blonde German girl fling her naked breasts about in blue smoky gloom, and glancing every now and then at Dr. Palmer Kirby's long solemn face in thick-rimmed glasses, as he smoked a long pipe and observed the hard-working sweaty dancer with faint distaste. Rhoda was aroused and deliciously shocked. She had never before seen a nude134 dancing woman, except in paintings. After that until her husband returned, she spent a lot of time with Kirby. They went to the less frequented restaurants. In her own vocabulary, she never "did anything." When Pug returned, the adventure stopped. A farewell lunch at Wannsee for Palmer Kirby was Rhoda's idea, but she got Sally Forrest to give the lunch, saying she had already sufficiently135 entertained this civilian136 visitor. If Sally Forrest detected an oddity in this she said nothing. With the end of the Polish war at hand-onlyWarsaw was still holding out-the two attaches felt able to take off some midday hours. Berlin wore a peactime air, and there was even talk that rationing137 would soon be over. Byron drove them all out to the resort in an embassy car. Along the broad sandy beach on the Havel river, people strolled in the sun or sat under broad gaily138 colored umbrellas, and a number of gymnasts braved the fall breezes to exercise in skimpy costumes. in the luncheon139 the Forrests ordered, rationing was not much in evidence. The pasty margarine tasted as usual like axle grease, but they ate excellent turbot and good leg of lamb. Midway during the lunch a loudspeaker crackled and whined140, and a voice spoke in firm clear German: "Attentioni In the next few minutes you u?ill hear a report of the highest 'InVortance to the Fatherland." The identical words boomed all over the river resort. People stopped on the promenade141 to listen. On the beach the small figures of the gymnasts halted briefly142 in their tumbling or running. An excited murmur143 rose all through the elegant Kaiserpavillon restaurant. "What do you suppose?" Sally Forrest said, as the music resumed, thin gentle Schubert on strings144. 'Warsaw, I'd guess," said her husband. "It must be over." Dr. Kirby said, "You don't suppose there's an armistice145 coming up? I've been hearing armistice talk all week." "Oh, wouldn't that be Marvelous," Rhoda said, "and put an end to this stupid war before it really gets going!" Byron said, "It's been going." Oh, of course," said Rhoda with an apologetic smile, "they'd have to make some decent settlement of that hideous146 Polish business." "There'll be no armistice," said Pug. The buzz of talk rose higher on the crowded terrace and in the dining room. The Germans, eyes bright and gestures animated147, argued with each other, laughed, struck the table, and called from all sides for champagne. When the loudspeaker played the few bars of Liszt's music that preceded big news, the noise began to die. "Sondermeldungl' (Special bulletin!) At this announcement, an immediate148 total stillness blanketed the restaurant, except for a clink here and there. The loudspeaker randomly149 crackled; then a baritone voice spoke solemn brief words. "From Supreme150 Headquarters of the Fuhrer. Warsaw hen fallen.The whole restaurant rang with applause and cheers. Women jumped to their feet and danced. Men shook hands and hugged and kissed each other. Brass band music-first "Deutschland Ober Alles," then the "Horst Wessel Lied"-came pouring out of theloudspeakers. To a man the diners in the Kaiserpavillon rose, all except the American party. On the beach, on the promenade, wherever the eye turned, the Germans stood still, most of them with arms thrust forward in the Nazi88 salute. In the dining room, about half were saluting151 and singing, a discordant152 swell153 of voices in the vulgar beery National Socialist154 anthem155. Victor Henry's skin prickled as he looked around, and he felt at this moment that the Germans under Adolf Hitler would take some beating. He then noticed something he had not seen for many, many years. His son sat , face frozen, lips pressed in a line, white-knuckled hands clasped on the table. Byron had almost always taken pain and punishment dry-eyed since the age of five, but now he was crying. The American party, sitting in a restaurant full of people on their feet, was getting hostile glares. "Do they expect us to stand?" Sally Forrest said. "I'm not standing156," Rhoda said. Their waiter, a roly-poly man in black with very long straight blond hair, hitherto all genial157 expert service, stood bellowing158 with arm outstretched, visibly sneering159 at the Americans. Byron saw none of this. Byron was seeing dead swollen160 horses in the gutter161, yellow plywood patches on rows of broken buildings, a stone goose bordered with red flowers in a schoolyard, a little girl in a lilac dress taking a pen from him, orange starshells bursting in the night over church domes163. The song ended. The Germans applauded and cheered some more, and began toasting each other. The string orchestra switched to drinking songs, and the whole KaiserpaviUon went into a gay roar of Du, du, liegst mir im Herren, Du, du, liegst mir im SinnByron cringed to hear it, and to recall that a full belly164 and a glass of beer had brought him to join German soldiers in this song, not six hours after he had escaped from burning Warsaw. la, ia, ia, jal Weisst night u7ie gut162 which dir bin15... At the Americans' table the waiter started removing plates with a jerky clatter165, spilling gravy166 and wine and jostling them with his elbows. 'Watch what you're doing, please," Colonel Forrest said. The waiter went on with his brusque sloppy167 clearing. Sally Forrest gave a little yelp168 as he struck her head with a plate. Pug said to him, 'Look. CaR your headwaiter, please." "Headwaiter? I am the headwaiter. I am your head." The man laughed and walked off. Dirty dishes remained scattered on the table. Wet purple and brown messes stained the cloth. Forrest said to Henry, 'It might be smart to leave.""Oh, by all means," Sally Forrest said. 'Just pay, Bill, and we'll go." She Picked up her purse. 'We haven't had our dessert," Pug Henry said. "It might be an idea to knock that waiter on his behind," Dr. Kirby said, his face disagreeably contorted. "I volunteer," said Byron, and he started to get up. "For God's sake, boy!" Colonel Forrest pulled him back. "An incident is just what he wants, and what we can't have." T'be waiter was striding past them to another table. Henry called, "I asked you to bring your headwaiter." "You're in a hurry, honorable sir?" the waiter jeered169. "Then you'd better leave. We're very busy in this restaurant." He turned a stout170 back on Henry and walked away. "Stop! Turn around." Pug did not shout or bark. He used a dry sharp tone of command that cut through the restaurant gabble. The waiter stopped and turned. "Go call your headwaiter. Do it immediately." He looked straight into the waiter's eyes, his face serious and hard. The waiter's glance shifted, and he walked off in another direction. The nearby diners were staring and muttering. 'I think we should go," Sally Forrest said. "This isn't worth the trouble." The waiter soon approached, followed by a tall, bald, long-faced man in a frock coat, who said with a busy, unfriendly air, "Yes? You have a complaint?" 'We're a party of Americans, military attaches," Pug said. "We didn't rise for your anthem. We're neutrals. This waiter chose to take offense171." He gestured at the table. "He's been deliberately172 clumsy and dirty. He's talked rudely. He's jostled the ladies. His conduct has been swinish. Tell him to behave himself, and be good enough to let us have a clean cloth for our dessert." The expression of the headwaiter kept changing as Victor Henry rapped the sentences out. He hesitated under Henry's direct gaze, looked around at the other diners, and all at once burst out in a howl of abuse at the waiter, flinging both arms in the air, his face purpling. After a short fierce tantrum, he turned to Pug Henry, bowed from the waist, and said coldly, 'You will be properly served. My apologies." And he bustled173 off. Now a peculiar174 thing happened. The waiter reverted175 to his former manner without turning a hair, without a trace of surliness, resentment176, or regret. The episode was obliterated177; it had never happened. He cleared the dishes and spread a new cloth with deft178 speed. He smiled, he bowed, he made little jokes and considerate little noises. His face was blood red, otherwise hewas in every respect the same charming, gemutlich German waiter who had first greeted them. He took their dessert orders with chuckles179 and nods, with arch jests about calories, with solicitous180 suggestions of wine and liqueurs. He backed away smiling and bowing, and hastened out of sight. "I'll be damned," said Colonel Forrest. "We hadn't had our dessert," Pug said. "Well done," Kirby said to Pug Henry, with an odd glance at Rhoda. "Beautifully done." 9fOb, Pug has a way about him," Rhoda said, smiling brightly. "Okay, Dad," Byron said. Victor Henry shot him a quick look. It was the one remark that gratified him. The Americans rushed uneasily through their desserts: all but Victor Henry, who was very deliberate about eating his tart16 and drinking his coffee. He unwrapped a cigar. The waiter jumped to light it for him. "Well, I guess we can shove off," he said, puffing181 out a cloud of smoke. "Time's a'wasting, and the colonel and I are cheating the U.S. Government." That night after a late dinner, as they were having coffee on the terrace, Rhoda said, 'I see you've brought home a pile of work. I thought we might see that new Emil Jennings movie. But I can get one of the girls to come along." 'Go ahead. I'm no fan of Emil jannings." Rhoda drank up her coffee and left the father and son sitting in the gloom. "Briny, what about that report? How's it coming?" "The report? Oh, yes, the report." Byron leaned forward in his chair, legs apart, elbows on knees, hands clasped. "Dad, I'd like to ask you something. What would you think of my joining the British navy? Or the marines. Victor Henry blinked, and took a while to answer. "You want to fight the Germans, I take it?" "I enjoyed myself in Warsaw. I felt useful." "Well, this is one hell of a change, coming from you. I thought a military career was o-u-t out." 'This isn't a career." Pug sat smoking and looking at his hands, crouching182 forward in his chair. Byron usually slouched back and extended his long legs, but now he was imitating his father. Their attitudes looked comically alike. "Briny, I don't think the Allies are going to make a deal with Hitler, but what if t do? A peace offensive's coming up, that's for sure.
Suppose you join the British, possibly lose your citizenship-certainly create a peck of problensand then the war's off? There you'll be, up to your neck in futile183 red tape. Why not hang on a while and see how the cat jumps?" "I guess so." Byron sighed, and slouched back in his chair. Pug said, "I don't like to discourage an admirable impulse. What might be a good idea right now is to ask for active duty in our Navy, and-" "No, thanks." "Now hear me out, dammit. You've got your commission. The reserves who go out to sea now will draw the best duty if and when the action starts. You'll have the jump on ninety-nine percent of the otbersIn wartime you'll be the equal of any Academy man." 'Meantime I'd be in for years. And then suppose the war ends?" "You're not doing anything else." "I wrote to Dr. Jastrow in Siena. I'm waiting to hear from him." The father dropped the subject. Rhoda went to see the Emil jannings movie, but first she did something else. She picked up Dr. Palmer Kirby at his hotel and drove him to Tempelhof airport. This was not necessary; cabs were available in Berlin. But she had offered to do this and Kirby had accepted. Perhaps there would have been no harm in telling her husband that she was giving the visitor this last courtesy; but she didn't. They hardly spoke in the car. She parked and went to the cafe lounge while he checked in. Had she encountered a friend, she would have needed an explanation on the spot and a story for her husband. But she had no such worry; she felt only a bittersweet excitement. What she was doing gave her not the slightest guilty feeling. She had no wrong intent. She liked Palmer Kirby. It was a long, long time since a man had seemed so attractive to her. He liked her, too. In fact, this was a genuine little wartime romance, so decorous as to be almost laughable; an unexpected flash of melancholy184 magic, which would soon be over forever. It was not in the least like her aborted185 drunken peccadillo186 with Kip Tollever. "Well, I guess this is it," Kirby said, falling in the chair opposite her in the gangling187 way which always struck her as boyish, for all his grizzled head and sharply lined face. They sat looking at each other until the drinks came. "Your happiness," he said. 'Oh, that. I've had that. it's all in the past." She sipped.
'Did they give you the connection to Lisbon that you wanted?" 'Yes, but the Pan Am Clippers are jammed. I may be hung up in lisbon for days." "Well, I wish I had that in prospect188. I hear that's becoming the gayest city in Europe." "Come along." "Oh, Palmer, don't tease me. Dear me, I was supposed to call you Fred, wasn't I? And now I find I've been thinking of you all along as Palmer. Fred-well, there are so many Freds. You don't strike me as Fred." "That's very strange." He drank at his highball. What is?" "Anne called me Palmer. She never would call me anything else." Rhoda twirled the stem of her daiquiri glass. "I wish I had known your wife." "You'd have become good friends." "Palmer, what do you think of Pug?" "Hell. That's a tough one." The engineer pushed his lips out ruefully. "My first impression was that he was a misplaced and-frankly189-rather narrow-minded sea dog. But I don't know. He has a keen intellect. He's terrifically on the ball. That was quite a job he did on that waiter. He's a hard man to know, really." Rhoda laughed. "How right you are. After all these years, I don't know him too well myself. But I suspect Pug's really something simple and almost obsolete190, Palmer. He's a patriot191. He's not the easiest person to live with. He's so goldamed single-minded." "Is he a patriot, or is he a Navy career man? Those are two different things." Rhoda tilted193 her head and smiled. "I'm not actually sure." "Well, I've come to admire him, that much I know." Kirby frowned at his big hands, clasped around the drink on the table. 'See here, Rhoda, I'm really a proper fellow, all in all. Let me just say this. You're a wonderful woman. I've been a sad dull man since Anne died, but you've made me feel very much alive again, and I'm grateful to you. Does this offend you?" "Don't be a fool. It pleases me very much, and you know it does." Rhoda took a handkerchief from her purse. "However, it's going to be a little hard on my contentment for a day or two. Oh, damn." "Why?I should think it would, add to your contentment." "Oh, shut up, Palmer. Thanks for the drink. You'd better go to your plane." "Look, don't be upset." She smiled at him, her eyes tearful. 'y everything's fine, dear. You might write, just once in a while. Just a friendly little scribble, so I'll know you're alive and well. I'd like that." "Of course I will. I'll write the day I get home." "Will you really? That's fine." She touched her eyes with her handkerchief and stood. "goodbye." He said, getting to his feet, "They haven't called my plane." "No? Well, my chauffeuring195 job is finished, and I'm leaving you here and now." They walked out of the lounge and shook hands in the quiet terminal. War had all but shut down the airport; most of the counters were dark. Rhoda squeezed Dr. Kirby's hand, and standing on tiptoe, kissed him once on the lips. This in a way was strangest of all, reaching up to kiss a man. She opened her mouth. After all, it was a farewell. 'Good-bye. Have a wonderful trip." She hurried away and turned a corner without looking back. She saw enough of the Emil jannings movie to be able to talk about it to Pug. Byron at last wrote the report on his adventures in Poland. Victor Henry, suppressing his annoyance196 over the five vapid197 pages, spent an afternoon dictating198 to his yeoman everything he remembered of Byron's tale. His son read the seventeen-page result next day with astonishment199. "Ye gods, Dad, what a memory you have." 'Take that and fix it any way you want. Just make sure it's factually unchallengeable. Combine it with your thing and let me have it back by Friday." Victor Henry forwarded the patched report to the Office of Naval Intelligence, but forgot his idea of sending a copy to the President. The cool autumn days went by and Berlin began taking on an almost peacetime look and mood. Byron lounged around the Grunewald house, knotting his forehead by the hour over one book after another from Leslie Slote's list. Three or four times a week he played tennis with his father; he was much the better player, but Pug, a steely plodder200 at first, wore him down and beat him. With food, exercise, and sun, however, Byron lost his shed look, regained201 strength, and started winning, which pleased Pug as much as it did him. One morning he walked into his father's office at the embassy and saw sitting on the floor, carefully roped up and ticketed with a tag in his own handwriting, the large valise of suits, shoes, and shirts he had left behind in Warsaw. It was a shocking little clue to the efficiency of the Germans. But he was glad to have the clothes, for American styles were idolized inGermany. He blossomed out as a dandy. The German girls in the embassy looked after the slender young man whenever he walked down the hall, casually202 A la mode, with heavy red-glinting brown hair, a lean face, and large blue eyes that widened when he wistfully smiled. But he ignored their inviting203 glances. Byron pounced204 on the mail every morning, searching in vain for a letter from Siena. When the Fuhrer made his Reichstag speech offering peace to England and France, early in October, the propaganda ministry205 set aside a large block of seats in the Kroll Opera House for foreign diplomats206, and Pug took his son along. living through the siege of Warsaw, and then reading Mein Kampf, Byron had come to think of Adolf Hitler as a historic monster-a Caligula, a Genghis Khan, an Ivan the Terrible-and Hitler standing at the podium surprised him: just a medium-size pudgy individual in a plain gray coat and black trousers, carrying a red portfolio207. The man seemed to Byron a diminutive208 actor, weakly impersonating the grandiose209 and gruesome history-maker. Hitler spoke this time in a reasonable, pedestrian tone, like an elderly politician. In this sober style, the German leader began to utter such grotesque210 and laughable lies that Byron kept looking around for some amused reactions. But the Germans sat listening with serious faces. Even the diplomats gave way only here and there to a mouth twitch211 that might have been ironic212. A powerful Poland had attacked Germany, the little man in the gray coat said, and had attempted to destroy her. The brave Wehrmacht had not been caught unawares and had justly punished this insolent213 aggression214. A campaign strictly215 limited to attack of military targets had brought quick total victory. The civilian population of Poland, on his personal orders, had not when molested216, and had suffered no loss or injury, except in Warsaw. There again on his orders, the German commanders had pleaded with,the authorities to evacuate217 their civilians218, offering them safeconduct The Poles with criminal folly had insisted on holding defenseless women and children within the city. To Byron, the brazenness219 of this assertion was stupefying. All the neutral diplomats had made desperate efforts for weeks to negotiate the evacuation of Warsaw's women and children. The Germans had never even replied. It was not so much that Hitler was lying about this-Byron knew that the German nation was following a wild liar80 and had been for years, since Mein Kampf was full of obvious crazy lies-but that this lie was pointless, since the neutrals knew the facts and the world press had reported them. Why, then, was Hitler saying such vulnerable nonsense? The speech must be meant for the Germans; but in that case, he reflected-as Hitler went on to "offer an outstretched hand!" to the British and the French-why was the speech so mild in style, and why were so many seats reserved for diplomats? "Surely if forty-six million Englishmen can claim to rule over forty million square kilometers of the earth, then it cannot be wrong," Hitler said in a docile220, placating221 tone, holding up bothhands, pahns outward, "for eighty-two million Germans to ask to be allowed to till in peace eight hundred thousand kilometers of soil that are Mstorically their own." He was talking about his new order in central Europe, and the expanded Third Reich. The British and the French could have peace simply by accepting things as they now were, he said, adding a hint that it might be well if they also gave Germany back her old colonies. The Fuhrer at the end fell into his old style, howling and sneering, shaking both fists in front of his face, pointing a fist and a finger straight upward, snapping his hands to his hips222, as he pictured the horrors of a full-scale war, which he said he dreaded223 and which nobody could really win. That night Pug Henry wrote in his intelligence report:... Hitler looks very well. He obviously has first-rate powers of recuperation. Maybe licking Poland toned up his system a bit. Anyway, the haggardness is gone, his color is excellent, he isn't stooping, his voice is clear, not harsh, and-at least in this speech-very pleasant, and his walk is springy and quick. It would be a grave mistake to hope for a physical breakdown224 in this m§in. The speech was a lot of the same old stuff, with some remarkable225 whoppers, even for the Fuhrer, about who started the Polish war and about the sterling226 conduct of the Germans toward civilians. This tommyrot was certainly for internal consumption. His German listeners appeared to be swallowing it, though it's very hard to discern what Germans really think. 'The radio tonight is making a great to-do about the 'outstretched hand' peace proposal. Well evidently be hearing 'outstretched hand" from now on, possibly to the end of the war, even if it's ten years hence. The offer may have been authentic227. If the Allies accept, Germany gets her half of Poland for the price of a quick cheap campaign, and her preWorld War colonies, no doubt as a reward for the faultless chivalry228 of her aimed forces. Hitler has never been bashful about making the most outrageous229 proposals. They've been accepted, too. So why not try another one? At the very least, if he gets the truce230 and the conference he suggests, the British and French publics will undoubtedly231 relax and slack off. The Germans can use the breather to get their half-hearted industrial effort rolling for the showdown. On every count this was a clever speech by a leader who is riding high and seems to have the magic touch. The only fault I can find is a dull and boring delivery, but that too may have been calculated. Hitler today was the judicious232 European politician, not the roaring Aryan firebrand. Among his other talents he is a gifted vaudevillian233. Pug told Byron to write down his impressions of the speech. Byron handed in half a written page: My outstanding impression was the way Adolf Hitler follows out what he wrote in Mein Kampf. He says there, in his section on war propaganda, that the masses are 'feminine," acting234 on feeling and sentiment, and that whatever you tell them must be addressed to the dullest ignoramus among them, in order to reach and convince the broadest possible audience. Thisspeech was full of lies that ought to annoy a halfeducated German boy of ten, and the peace proposals amounted to a total German grab. Maybe Hitler judges other countries by his own; otherwise I can't understand the speech. I only today what utter contempt Hitler has for the Germans. He regards them as bottomlessly naive235 and stupid. They follow him and love him. Who am I to say he's wrong? His father thought this was not bad, and included it in quotation236 marks as the comment of a youth American spectator. The din8 of the German radio and press in the next days was terrific. Italy and japan had hailed the Fuhrer as the greatest peacemaker of all time. A mighty237 popular surge for peace was sweeping238 the West and the United States. But "Churchillian" warmongers239 were trying to stamp out this warm response of the peoples to the Fuhrer's outstretched hand. If they succeeded, the most ghastly bloodbath of all time would follow, and history would know whom to blame. Pug gathered from neutral intellience in Berlin that some Frenchmen wanted to make a deal and call off the war, but not because they took seriously anything Hitler had said. It was just a question of yielding to the facts or fighting on. Into this confusing noise came an electric shock of news. A U-boat had sneaked240 into the British fleet anchorage in Scapa Flow at the northern tip of Scotland, had sunk the battleship Royal Oak, and had returned home safely News pictures showed the solemn fat-faced Fuhrer shaking the hand of Lieutenant241 Commander Prien, a nervous stiff young man with receding242 hair. The Nazi propaganda ministry foamed243 with ecstasy244 over the British Adn-,dralty's report that sadly praised Prien's skill and daring. The writer was Churchill himself. Goebbels' s broadcasters said the sinking of the Royal Oak would prove a great boon245 to peace, since the Fwuer's "outstretched hand" proposal would now receive more serious consideration. A small reception was laid on for neutral military attaches to meet Prien. Victor Henry put his son's name on the list, with the rank Ensign, USNR, and Byron received a card. The Henrys dined before the reception at the apartment of Commander Grohke, a small dark walk-up flat on the fourth floor of an old house with bay windows. Heavy thick furniture so cluttered246 the rooms that there was hardly space to move. The meal was salt fish and potatoes, but it was well cooked and Byron enjoyed it. He found the Grohkes disconcertingly normal, though he was prepared to detest116 them. When the talk got around to Byron's experiences in Poland the woman listened with an unhappy, motherly look. 'One never knows what to believe any more. Thank God it's over, at least. Let there only be peace, real peace. We don't want war. The last war ruined Germany. Another war will be the absolute end of our country." Rhoda said, 'It's so awful. Nobody in the world wants war, yet here we are in this mess." Grohke said to Victor Henry, 'What do you think? Are the Allies going to discuss the Fuhrer's very reasonable offer?"'Do you want me to be polite, or are you asking for information?" "Don't be polite, Henry. Not with me." 'Okay. Germany can have peace if she gets rid of Hitler and his regime." You could even hang on to a lot of your gains. That gang has got to go. Grohke and his wife looked at each other in the candlelight. 'Then it's hopeless," he said, playing with his empty wineglass. 'If your people won't understand one thing about Germany, we have to fight it out. You don't know what this country was like in the 1920's. I do. If the system had gone on another few years there would have been no navy, no economy, nothing. Germany would have fallen apart. This man stood up and put Germany back on the map. You have Roosevelt, we have him. Listen, Henry, I sat in a fancy club in New York and heard people call Roosevelt an insane socialist cripple. There are millions who hate him. Right? Now I'm not a Nazi, I've never said the Fuhrer is a thousand percent right. But he's a winner, damn it all. He gets things done, like Roosevelt. And you want us to get rid of him? First of all it isn't possible. You know what the regime is. And if it were possible we wouldn't do it. And yet there can be peace. It depends on one man, and he isn't our Fuhrer." '"Who then?" "Your President. The British and the French are beaten right now. Otherwise they'd have attacked in September. When will they ever have such a chance again? They're holding out for only one reason-they feel America's behind them. If your President says one word to them tomorrow -'I'm not helping247 you against German-this world war will be over before it starts, and we'll all have a hundred years of prosperity. And I'll tell you one more thing. That's the only way your President can make sure japan won't jump on your back." It occurred to Victor Henry, not for the first time, that his meeting with Grohke on the Bremen had probably not been accidental. 'I guess we'd better get on to that reception," he said. Lieutenant Commander Prien looked surprised and interested when Byron's Turn came in the reception line of floridly uniformed attaches. "You are young," he said in German, scrutinizing248 Byron's face and wellcut dark suit as they shook hands. "Are you a submariner?" "No. Maybe I should be." Prien said with a charming grin, and sudden wholehearted warmth, "Ach, it's the only service. But you have to be tough." Blue-uniformed sailors lined up the chairs for a lecture. Pug Henry was flabbergasted by thecandor of the U-boat captain's talk. It was no revelation that Prien had gone in on the surface at slack water, in the dark of the moon. That could be surmised249. But Prien had no business exhibiting the Luftwaffe's aerial photographs of the entrances and analyzing250 the obstacles. It was handing the British their corrective measures on a silver platter. It also disclosed technical news about German reconnaissance photography-scary news, to be sure. This was urgent stuff for the next pouch. Byron listened as intently as his father. What fascinated him was the living detail. Prien spoke clear slow German. He could follow every word. He could see the northern lights sh(a) immering in the black night, silhouetting251 the U-boat, reflecting in purple and green sparkles on the wet forecastle, and worrying the captain half to death. He was mentally dazzled by the automobile252 headlights on the shore that suddenly flashed out of the gloom and caught the captain square in the face. He saw the two dim gray battleships ahead, he heard the black chill waters of Scapa Flow lap on the U-boat hull253 as it slowed to fire four torpedoes254. He almost shared the German's disappointment when only one hit. The most amazing and inspiring part of the tale came after that. Instead of fleeing, Prien had made a big slow circle on the surface, inside the Royal Navy's main anchorage, to reload tubes; for the torpedo255 hit had failed to set off a general submarine alarm. It simply had not occurred to the British that there could be a U-boat inside Scapa Flow; on the Royal Oak they had taken the hit for an internal explosion. And so, by daring all, Prien had succeeded in shooting a second salvo of four torpedoes. "We got three hits that time," Prien said. "The rest you know. We blew up the magazines, and the Royal Oak went down almost at once." He did not gloat. Nor did he express regret over the nine hundred drowned British sailors. He had put his own life in hazard. The odds256 had been that he, and not they, would die in the night's work-tangled in the nets, impaled257 on rocks, or blown to bits by a mine. So Byron thought. He had sailed out, done his duty, and home. Here he was, a serious, clean-cut professional,alivetotellthetale.Thiswasnot(come) Warsaw, and this was not strafing horses and children on country roads. Pug Henry and his son drove slowly home through deserted258 streets in the blue-lit blackout. They did not talk. Byron said as the car turned into their street, 'Dad, didn't you ever consider submarines?" The father shook his head. "They're a strange breed, those fellows. And once you're in the pigboats, you have a hell of a job ever getting out. This Prien's a lot like our own Navy submariners. Now and then I almost forgot there that he was talking German." "Well, that's what I'd have picked, I think," Byron said, "if I'd gonein.p# The car drew up to the house. Pug Henry leaned an elbow on the wheel, and looked at his son with an acid grin in the faint glow of the dashboard. "You don't get to sink a battleship every day." Byron scowled259, and said with unusual sharpness, "Is that what you think appeals to me?" 'Look here," Pug said, "the physical on submariners is a damn rigorous one, and they put you through a rough graduate school, but if you're actually interested-" "No thanks, Dad." The young man laughed and tolerantly shook his head at his father's persistence260. Victor Henry often tried to start the topic of submarines again, but never drew another glint of interest. He spent a week with Byron touring shipyards and factories. The German attache in the United States had asked for such a tour, so a return of the courtesy was automatic. Pug Henry enjoyed travelling with his son. Byron put up with inconvenience, he never got angry, he joked in annoying moments, and he rose to sudden emergencies: a plane overbooked, a train missed, luggage vanished, hotel reservations lost. Pug considered himself fast on his feet, but Byron, by using a certain easygoing charm, could get out of holes, track things down, and persuade desk clerks and ticket agents to exert themselves, better than his father. During lunches with factory owners, plant managers, and yard superintendents261, Byron could sit for two hours looking pleasant without talking, and reply when spoken to with something short and apt. "You seem to be enjoying this," Pug remarked to Byron, as they drove back to the hotel in dark rain from a long tiring visit to the Krupp works in Essen. "It's interesting. Much more so than the cathedrals and the schlosses and the folk costumes," Byron said. 'This is the Germany to worry about." Pug nodded. 'Right. The German industrial plant is the pistol Hitler is pointing at the world's head. It bears study." "Pretty sizable pistol," Byron said. "Too sizable for comfort." "How does it compare to the Allies', and to ours, Dad?" A glass partition in the Krupp courtesy limousine262 separated them from the chauffeur194, but Pug thought the man held his head at an attentive tilt192. "That's the question. We've got the biggest industrial plant in the world, no doubt of that, but Hitler isn't giving us a second thought right about now, because there's no national will to use it as a pistol. Germany with her industrial setup can run the world, if nobody argues. The means and the will exist. Macedonia wasn't very big when Alexander conquered the world. Brazil may be four times as big and have ten times the potential of Germany, but the payoff is onpresent capacity and will. On paper, as I keep insisting, the French and the British combined sfih have these people licked. But on paper Primo Camera had Joe Louis licked. Hitler's gone to bat because he thinks he can take them. It's the ultimate way to match industrial systems, but a bit chancy." "Then maybe this is what war is all about nowadays," Byron said. "Industrial capacity." "Not entirely263, but it's vital." "Well, I'm certainly learning a lot." Pug smiled. Byron was spending his hotel evenings doggedly264 reading Beg--I, usually falling asleep in an hour or so over the open book. "How are you coming along on that Hegel fellow?" ,it's just starting to clear up a bit. I can hardly believe it, but he seems crazier than Hitler. They taught me at Columbia that he's a great philosopher." "Possibly he's too deep for you." "Maybe so, but the trouble is, I think I understand him." The gray, dignified265 chauffeur gave Byron a hideous look as he opened the door for them at the hotel. Byron ran over in his mind what he had said, and decided to be more careful about calling Hitler crazy. He didn't think the chauffeur was an offended Hegelian. Aletter arrived from Aaron Jastrow in a burst of airmail from the outside a few days after the British and French, to the great rage of the German radio, rejected the Fuhrer's outstretched hand. Mail to the embassy was supposed to be uncensored, but nobody believea ffial the letters came in sudden sackfuls two or three weeks apart. The red and green Italian airmail envelope was rubber-stamped all over, purple and black and red. Dr. Jastrow was still typing with a worn-out ribbon, perhaps even the same one. He was too absentminded and, Byron suspected, too inept266 mechanically to change a ribbon, and unless someone did it for him he would use the old one until the words on the page looked like spirit typing. Byron had to put the letter under a strong light to make it out. October 5th Dear Byron: Natalie is not here. I've had one letter from her, written in London. She'll try to come back to Siena, at least for a while. I'm selfishly glad of that, for I'm very much tied down without her. Now about yourself. I can't encourage you to come back. I didn't discourage Natalie because I frankly need her. In her fashion she feels a responsibility for her bumbling uncle, which is a matter of blood ties, and very sweet and comforting. You have no such responsibility. If you came here and I suddenly decided to leave, or were forced to go (and I must live with that possibility), think of all the useless motion and expense you'd have put yourself to! would really like having you here, but I must husband my resources, so I couldn't pay for your trip from Berlin. Of course if you happened to come to Italy, though I can't think why you should, I would always be glad to see you and talk to you. Meantime I must thank you for your inquiry267. just possibly it had some teeny connection with the other inquiry about Natalie's whereabouts, but I'm grateful for it anyway-and I must recommend that for your own sake you forget about Siena, Constantine, and the Jastrows. Thank you for all you did for my niece. I gather from her letter-not from your far too modest and bare note-that you saved her from danger, perhaps from death. How glad I am that you went! My wannest268 regards to your parents. I briefly talked with your father on the telephone. He sounded like a splendid man. Faithfully yours, Aaron Jastrow When Byron got home that evening he took one look at his father, sitting in a lounge chair on the porch facing the garden, and backed away. Pug's head was thrust forward and down, over a highball glass clenched269 in two hands. Byron went to his room and plugged at Hegel and his baffling 'World Spirit" until dinner time. Rhoda endured Victor Henry's glowering270 silence at the table until the dessert came. "All right, Pug," she said, digging into her ice cream, what's it all about?" Pug gave her a heavy-lidded look. "Didn't you read the letter?" Byron thought his mother's reaction was exceedingly peculiar. Her face stiffened271, her eyes widened, her back straightened. "Letter? What letter? From whom?" "Get the letter on my dressing272 table for your mother, please," Pug said to Byron. "Well, goodness me," Rhoda gasped273, as she saw Byron trampling274 down the stairs with a pink envelope, "it's only from Madeline." "Who did you think it was from?" "Well, good lord, how was I to know? The Gestapo or somebody, from your manner. Honestly, Pug." She scanned the letter. 'So? What's wrong with this? That's quite a raise, twenty dollars a week." "Read the last page." 'I am. Well! I see what you mean." "Nineteen years old," Pug said. "An apartment of her own in New York! And I was the fusspot, about letting her leave school." "Pug, I merely said when you got here that the thing was done.
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pastry
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farmhouses
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farmhouse
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atrocities
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ethnic
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jovial
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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9
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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10
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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11
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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12
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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13
coherence
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| n.紧凑；连贯；一致性 | |
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14
famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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15
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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16
tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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17
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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18
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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19
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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20
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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21
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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22
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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23
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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24
scrawl
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| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
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25
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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26
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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27
muggy
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|
| adj.闷热的；adv.（天气）闷热而潮湿地；n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
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28
banal
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| adj.陈腐的，平庸的 | |
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29
scribble
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| v.潦草地书写，乱写，滥写；n.潦草的写法，潦草写成的东西，杂文 | |
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30
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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31
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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32
buzzer
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| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
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33
flipped
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|
| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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34
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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35
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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36
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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37
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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38
diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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39
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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40
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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41
auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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42
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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44
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
wryly
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| adv. 挖苦地，嘲弄地 | |
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46
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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47
puffed
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|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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48
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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49
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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50
pouch
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|
| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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51
judgment
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|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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52
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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53
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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54
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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55
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
briny
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| adj.盐水的；很咸的；n.海洋 | |
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57
eyewitness
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| n.目击者，见证人 | |
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58
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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59
overestimating
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| 对（数量）估计过高，对…作过高的评价( overestimate的现在分词 ) | |
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60
assents
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| 同意，赞同( assent的名词复数 ) | |
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61
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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62
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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63
blithely
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| adv.欢乐地，快活地，无挂虑地 | |
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64
wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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65
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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67
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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68
spanking
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| adj.强烈的，疾行的；n.打屁股 | |
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69
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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70
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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71
pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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72
conspiring
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|
| 密谋( conspire的现在分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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73
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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74
asylums
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| n.避难所( asylum的名词复数 )；庇护；政治避难；精神病院 | |
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75
eavesdropping
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| n. 偷听 | |
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76
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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77
condescension
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|
| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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78
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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79
unfamiliar
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|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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80
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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81
raisins
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| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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82
dough
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|
| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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83
frantic
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|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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84
cramming
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|
| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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85
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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86
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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87
Nazis
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| n.（德国的）纳粹党员( Nazi的名词复数 )；纳粹主义 | |
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88
Nazi
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| n.纳粹分子，adj.纳粹党的，纳粹的 | |
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89
anarchy
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| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
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90
Nazism
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| n. 纳粹主义 | |
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91
barbarian
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|
| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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92
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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93
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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94
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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95
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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96
peddle
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| vt.(沿街)叫卖，兜售；宣传，散播 | |
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97
overdue
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| adj.过期的，到期未付的；早该有的，迟到的 | |
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98
grouchy
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|
| adj.好抱怨的；愠怒的 | |
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99
cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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100
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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101
liberating
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| 解放，释放( liberate的现在分词 ) | |
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102
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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103
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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104
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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105
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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106
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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107
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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108
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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109
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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110
titillating
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| adj.使人痒痒的； 使人激动的，令人兴奋的v.使觉得痒( titillate的现在分词 )；逗引；激发；使高兴 | |
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111
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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112
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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113
cocktails
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| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
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114
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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115
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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117
saturnine
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| adj.忧郁的，沉默寡言的，阴沉的，感染铅毒的 | |
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118
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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119
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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120
adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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121
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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122
components
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| （机器、设备等的）构成要素，零件，成分； 成分( component的名词复数 )； [物理化学]组分； [数学]分量； （混合物的）组成部分 | |
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123
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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124
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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125
enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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126
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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127
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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128
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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129
dawdling
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| adj.闲逛的，懒散的v.混（时间）( dawdle的现在分词 ) | |
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130
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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131
peek
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| vi.偷看，窥视；n.偷偷的一看，一瞥 | |
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132
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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134
nude
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| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
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135
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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136
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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137
rationing
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| n.定量供应 | |
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138
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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139
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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140
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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141
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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142
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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143
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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144
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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145
armistice
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| n.休战，停战协定 | |
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146
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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147
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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148
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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149
randomly
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| adv.随便地，未加计划地 | |
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150
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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151
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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152
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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153
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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154
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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155
anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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156
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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157
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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158
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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159
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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160
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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161
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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162
gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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163
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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164
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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165
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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166
gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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167
sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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168
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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169
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
offense
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|
| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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172
deliberately
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|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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173
bustled
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|
| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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174
peculiar
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|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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175
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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176
resentment
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|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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177
obliterated
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|
| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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178
deft
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|
| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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179
chuckles
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的名词复数 ) | |
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180
solicitous
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|
| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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181
puffing
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|
| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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182
crouching
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|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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183
futile
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|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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184
melancholy
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|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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185
aborted
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|
| adj.流产的，失败的v.（使）流产( abort的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）（某事物）中止；（因故障等而）（使）（飞机、宇宙飞船、导弹等）中断飞行；（使）（飞行任务等）中途失败 | |
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186
peccadillo
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|
| n.轻罪，小过失 | |
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187
gangling
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|
| adj.瘦长得难看的 | |
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188
prospect
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|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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189
frankly
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|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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190
obsolete
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|
| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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191
patriot
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|
| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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192
tilt
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|
| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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193
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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194
chauffeur
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|
| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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195
chauffeuring
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| v.受雇于人的汽车司机( chauffeur的现在分词 ) | |
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196
annoyance
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|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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197
vapid
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|
| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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198
dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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199
astonishment
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|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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200
plodder
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|
| n.沉重行走的人，辛勤工作的人 | |
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201
regained
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|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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202
casually
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|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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203
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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204
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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205
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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206
diplomats
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|
| n.外交官( diplomat的名词复数 )；有手腕的人，善于交际的人 | |
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207
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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208
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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209
grandiose
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|
| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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210
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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211
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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212
ironic
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|
| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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213
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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214
aggression
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|
| n.进攻，侵略，侵犯，侵害 | |
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215
strictly
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|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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216
molested
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|
| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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217
evacuate
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| v.遣送；搬空；抽出；排泄；大(小)便 | |
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218
civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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219
brazenness
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| 厚颜无耻 | |
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220
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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221
placating
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| v.安抚，抚慰，使平静( placate的现在分词 ) | |
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222
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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223
dreaded
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|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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224
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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225
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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226
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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227
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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228
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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229
outrageous
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|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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230
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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231
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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232
judicious
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|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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233
vaudevillian
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| n.轻歌舞剧编剧者，杂耍演员 | |
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234
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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235
naive
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|
| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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236
quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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237
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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238
sweeping
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|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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239
warmongers
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|
| n.战争贩子( warmonger的名词复数 ) | |
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240
sneaked
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|
| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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241
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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242
receding
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|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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243
foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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244
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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245
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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246
cluttered
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|
| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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247
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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248
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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249
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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250
analyzing
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|
| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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251
silhouetting
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|
| 使呈现影子（silhouette的现在分词形式） | |
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252
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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253
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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254
torpedoes
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|
| 鱼雷( torpedo的名词复数 )； 油井爆破筒； 刺客； 掼炮 | |
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255
torpedo
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|
| n.水雷，地雷；v.用鱼雷破坏 | |
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256
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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257
impaled
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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258
deserted
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|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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259
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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260
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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261
superintendents
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| 警长( superintendent的名词复数 )； （大楼的）管理人； 监管人； （美国）警察局长 | |
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262
limousine
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| n.豪华轿车 | |
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263
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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264
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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265
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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266
inept
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| adj.不恰当的，荒谬的，拙劣的 | |
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267
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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268
wannest
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| wan（苍白的，没有血色的）的最高级形式 | |
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269
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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270
glowering
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| v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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271
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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272
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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273
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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274
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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