She whispered endearments17 and tried to be loving. After a while he sat up, and gently raised her. "All right. What is it?" She crouched18 against the head of the bed, hugging her knees. "Nothing, nothing! What am I doing wrong? Maybe I'm a little tired. The headache's not gone yet." "Natalie." He took her hand, kissed it, and looked straight into her eyes. "Oh, I guess nobody can experience such joy without paying. That's all. If you must know, I've been in a black hole all afternoon. it started when we didn't get our passports back, and those Germans were standing20 there in the lobby. I got this horrible sinking feeling. All the time we were sightsecing, I was having panicky fantasies, The hotel would keep stalling about my passport, and you'd sail away in the submarine, and here I'd be, just one more Jew stuck in Lisbon without papers." "Natalie, you never turned a hair all through Poland. You've got your passport back now." "I know. It's sheer nonsense, just nervous and pie on, too many wonderful things happening too fast. I'll get over it." He caressed21 her hair. "You fooled me. I thought you were enjoying Lisbon." "I loathe22 Lisbon, Briny23. I always have. I swear to God, whatever else happens, I'll regret to my dying day that we married and spent our wedding night here. It's a sad, painful city. You see it with different eyes, I know- You keep saying it looks like San Francisco. But San Francisco isn't full of Jews fleeing the Germans. The Inquisition didn't baptize Jews by force in San Francisco, and burn the ones who objected, and take away all the children to raise them as Christians25. Do you know that little tidbit of history? It happened here." Byron's face was serious, his eyes narrowed. "Maybe I read it once." "Maybe? If you had, how could you forget? Anybody's blood should run cold at such cruelty. But somehow, what's happened to Jews in Europe over the centuries is just a matter of course. What was Bunky's pretty phrase? Fish in a net." Byron said, "Natalie, I'll do anything you want about the religion. I've always been prepared for that. Would you want me to become Jewish?" 'Are you insane?" She turned her head sharply to him and her eyes had an angry shine. She had looked like this in Kenigsberg, giving him a rude abrupt26 good-bye. 'Why did you insist on getting married?
That's what's eating at me. just tell me that.. We could have made love, you know that, all you wanted. I feel tied to you now with a rope of raw nerves. I don't know where you're going. I don't know when I 'll ever see you again. I only know you're sailing away 'nursday in that damned submarine. Why don't we tear up those Portuguese documents? Let everything be as it Was. My God, if we ever find ourselves in a human situation, and if we still care, ive can get properly married. This was a farce27." "No, it wasn't. It's the only thing I've wanted since I was born. Noil, I've got it. We're not tearing up any papers. You're my wife." "But God in heaven, 'why have you gone to all this trouble? Why have you put yourself in this mess?" "Well, it's like this, Natalie. Married officers get extra allowances." She stared at him. Her taut28 face relaxed, she slowly, reluctantly smiled, and thrust both her hands in his hair. "I see! Well, that makes a lot of sense, Briny. You should have told me sooner. I can understand greed." Mouth to mouth, they fell back on the bed, and the lovemaking started to go better, but the telephone rang. It rang and rang and rang, and the kisses had to stop. Byron sighed, "Could be the S-45," and picked up the receiver. "Yes? Oh, hello. Right. That's thoughtful of you. Nine o'clock? Wait." He covered the mouthpiece. 'Thurston apologizes for intruding29. He and Slote thought we might conceivably want to have dinner in a special place. Best food in Lisbon, best singer in Portugal." 'Good heavens. Old Slote is uncovering a masocmstic streak30." 'Yes or no?" 'As you wish." Byron said, They mean to be nice. why not? We have to eat. Get away Emm the black raincoats." He accepted, hung u, and took her in his arms. The restaurant was a brick-walled low room, illuminated31 only by table candles and the logs blazing in an arched fireplace. Jews, many in sleek32 dinner clothes, filled half the tables. Two large British parties side by side made most of the noise in the sedate33 place. Directly in front of the fire a table for six empty, longingly34 eyed by customers clustering in a small bar. The four Americans sat at another favored table near the fire. Over Portuguese white wine, Bunky Thurston and the newlyweds soon grew merry. Not Slote; he drank a lot but hardly spoke or smiled. The firelight glittered on his square glasses, and even in that rosy36 light his face looked ashen37.
'I don't know if you youngsters are interested in the war, by the way," Thurston said over the meal. 'Remember the war? There's news." "If the news is good I'm interested," Natalie said. "Only if it's good." "Well, the British have captured Tobruk." Natalie said, 'Is Tobruk important?" Byron exclaimed, 'Important! It's the best harbor between Egypt and Tunis. that's mighty38 good news." "Right," Thurston said. "they're really roaring across North Africa now. Makes the whole war look different." Slote broke his silence to say hoarsely39, 'They're fighting Italians." He cleared his throat and went on, "Byron, did you actually read the list of books I gave you in Berlin? Natalie says you did." "Whatever I could find in English, yes. Maybe seven or eight of]t of ten." The diplomat40 shook his head. "Extraordinary heroism41." "I don't claim I understood them all," Byron said. "Sometimes my eyes just pas"ed over words. But I plowed42 on through." "What books?" Thurston said. "My darling here became slightly curious about the Germans," said Natalie, "after a Luftwaffe pilot almost shot his head off. He wanted to know a little more about them. Slote gave him a general syllabus44 of German nineteenth-century romanticism, nationalism, and idealism. "Never dreaming he'd do anything about it," Slote said, turning his blank firelit glasses toward her. "I had all this time in Siena last year," Byron said. "And I m,as interested." "What did you find out?" said Thurston, refilling Byron's glass. "You couldn't get me to read German philosophy if the alternative were a firing squad45." 'Mainly that Hitler's always been in the German bloodstream," Byron said, "and sooner or later had to break out. That's what Leslie told me in Berlin. He gave me the list to back up his view. I think he pretty well proved it. I used to think the Nazis46 had swarmed up out of the sewers47 and were something novel. But all their ideas, all their slogans, and practically everything they're doing is in the old books. That thing's been brewing48 in Germany for a hundred years." "For longer than that," Slote said. "You've done your homework well, Byron. A plus." 'Oh, balderdash!" Natalie exclaimed. "A plus for what? Repeating a tired cliche49? It's only novel to Byron because American education is so shallow and because he probably didn't absorb any he got." "Not much," Byron said. 'Mostly I played cards and ping-pong." "Well, it's very evident." His bride's tone was sharp. "Or you wouldn't have gone boring through that one-sided list of his like a blind bookworm, just to give him a chance to patronizeyou." 'I deny the patronizing and the one-sidedness," said Slote. "Not that it matters, Jastrow-I guess I'll have to call you Henry now-but I think I covered the field, and I admire your hubby for tackling the job so earnestly." "The whole thesis is banal50 and phony," Natalie said, "this idea that the Nazis are a culmination51 of German thought and culture. Hitler got his radsm from Gobineau, a Frenchman, his Teutonic superiority from Chamberlain, an Englishman, and his Jew-baiting from Lueger, a Viennese political thug. The only German thinker you can really link straight to Hitler is Richard Wagner. He was another mad Jew-hating socialist52, and Wagner's writings are all over Mein Kampf. But Nietzsche broke with Wagner over that malignant53 foolishness. Nobody takes Wagner seriously as a thinker, anyway. His music disgusts me too, though that's neither here nor there. I know you've read more in this field than I have, Slote, and I can't imagine why you gave Byron such a dreary55 loaded list. Probably just to scare him off with big names. But as you ought to know, he doesn't scare." 'I'm aware of that," Slote said. Abruptly56 he splashed wine into his glass, filling it to the brim, and emptied it without pausing for breath. "Your veal's getting cold," Byron said to his bride. This unexpected edgy57 clash between Natalie and her ex-loyer was threatening to get out of hand. She tossed her head at him and impatiently cut a bit of meat, talking as she ate. 'We created Hitler, more than anybody. We Americans. Mainly by not joining the League, and then by passing the insane Smoot-Hawley tariff58 in 1930, during a deep depression, knocking over Europe's economy like a row of dominoes. After Smoot-Hawley the German banks closed right and left. The Germans were starving and rioting. Hitler promised them jobs, law and order, and revenge for the last war. And he promised to crush the Communists. The Germans swallowed his revolution to fend59 off a Communist one. He's kept his promises, and he's held the Germans in line with terror, and that's the long and short of it. Why, there isn't a German in a thousand who's read those books, Briny. It's all a thick cloud of university gas. Hitler's a product of American isolation60 and British and French cowardice61, not of the ideas of Hegel and Nietzsche." "University gas is good, my dear," Slote said, 'and I'll accept it." He touched his spread fingertips together, slouched in his chair, regarding her with a peculiar smile at once superior and frustrated62. "In the sense that in any time and place the writings of the philosophers are a kind of exhaust gas of the evolving social machinery63-a point that Hegel more or less makes, and that Marx took and vulgarized. But you can recover from an analysis of the gas what the engine must be like and how it works. And the ideas may be powerful and true, no matter how produced. German romanticism is a terribly important and powerful critique of the way the West lives, Jastrow. It faces all the nasty weaknesses.""Such as?" Her tone was mean and abrupt. A rush of argument broke from Slote, as though he wanted to conquer her with words in Byron's presence, if he could do nothing else. He began stabbing one finger in the air, like exclamation64 points to his sentences. "Such as, my dear, that Christianity is dead and rotting since Galileo cut its throat. Such as, that the ideas of the French and American revolutions are thin fairy tales about human nature. Such as, that the author of the Declaration of Independence owned Negro slaves. Such as, that the champions of liberty, equality, and fraternity ended up chopping off the heads of helpless women, and each other's heads. The German has a very clear eye for such points, Natalie. He saw through the rot of imperial Rome and smashed it, he saw through the rot of the Catholic Church and broke its back, and now he thinks Christian24 industrial democracy is a rotting sham65, and he proposes to take over by force. His teachers have been telling him for a century that his turn is coming, and that cruelty and bloodshed are God's footprints in history. That's what's in the books I listed for Byron, poured out in great detail. It's a valid66 list. There was another strain in Germany, to be sure, a commonsense67 liberal humanist tendency linked with the West. The 'good Germany!" I know all about it, Natalie. Most of its leaders went over to Bismarck, and nearly all the rest followed the Kaiser. When his time came, Hitler had a waltz. Now listen!" In a solemn tone, like a priest chanting a mass, beating time in the air with a stiff finger, Slote quoted: "The German revolution will not prove any miuff or gentler because it was preceded by the Critique of Kant, by the Transcendental Idealism of Fichte. These' doctrines68 served to develop revolutionary forces that only await their times, to break forth69. Christianity subdued70 the brutal71 warrior72 passion of the Germans, but it could 'not quench73 it. When the cross, that restraining talism", falls to pieces, then will break forth again the frantic74 Berserker rage. The old stone gods will then arise from the forgotten ruins and wipe from their eyes the dust of centuries. Thor with his giant hamtwr will arise again, and he will shatter the Gothic cathedrals." Slote made an awkward, weak gesture with a fist to represent a hammer-blow, and went on: "'Smile not at the dreamer whowarns you against Kantians, Fichteans, and the other philosophers. Smile not at the fantasy of one who foresees in the region of reality the same outburst of revolution that has taken place in the region of intelt. The thought precedes the deed as the lightning the thunder. Ger thunder is of true German character. It is not very nimble, but rumbles75 along somewhat slowly. But come it will, and 'when you hear a crashing such as never before has been heard in the world's history, then know that at last the German thunderbolt has fallen." "Heine-the Jew who composed the greatest German poetry, and who fell in love with German philosophy-Heine wrote that," Slote said in a quieter tone. "He wrote that a hundred and six years ago." Behind him chairs rasped, and a party in evening clothes, cheerily chattering76 in German,flanked by three bobbing, ducking waiters, came to the big table by the fire. Slote was jostled; glancing over his shoulder, he looked straight into the face of the Gestapo chief, who amiably77 smiled and bowed. With him was the man with the scarred forehead they had seen in the hotel, and another German with a shaved head, and three giggling78 Portuguese women in bright evening dresses. "End of philosophy seminar," muttered Bunky Thurston. "Why?" said Byron. "Because for one thing," Natalie snapped, "I'm bored with it." As the Germans sat down, conversation died throughout the restaurant. The Jews were looking warily79 toward them. In the lull80, only the boisterous81 and oblivious82 British parties sounded louder. 'Who are those English people?" Natalie said to Thurston. 'Expatriates, living here because it's cheap and there's no rationingAlso, I guess, because it's out of range of Luftwaffe bombs," Thurston said. 'The British embassy staff isn't crazy about them." 'That's a remarkable83 quote from Heine," Byron said to Slote. 'I wrote a paper on Hegel and Heine at Oxford84." Slote smiled thinly. "Heine was fascinated by Hegel for a long time, then repudiated85 him. I translated that passage for an epigraph. The rhetoric86 is rather purple. So is Jeremiah's. Jewish prophets have one vein87." As they were drinking coffee, a pink spotlight88 clove89 the dark room, striking a gray curtain on a little platform. Bunky Thurston said, "Here he comes. He's the best of the fado singers." 'The best of what?" Byron said. A pale dark-eyed young man, in a black cloak with thick fringes, stepped through the curtain holding an onion-shaped guitar. "Fado singers. Fate songs. Very pathetic, very Portuguese." At the first chords that the young man struck-strong sharp sad chords, in a hammering rhythm-the restaurant grew still. He sang in a clear high florid voice, looking around with his black eyes, his high bulging90 forehead pink in the spotlight. Natalie murmured to Thurston, "What song is that?" "That's an old one, the fado of the students." 'What do the words mean?" Oh, the words never amount to anything. just a sentence or two. That one says, 'Close your eyes. Life is simpler with your eyes closed."' The glance of the newlyweds met. Byron put his hand over Natalie's.
The young man sang several songs, with strange moments of speeding UP, slowing down, sobbing91, and trilling; these evidently were the essence of fado, because when he performed such flourishes in the middle of a song, the Portugu in the room applauded and sometimes cheered. "Lovely " Natalie murmured to Bunky Thurston when a song ended. "Thank you." He smoothed his mustache with both hands. "I thought you'd find it agreeable. It's something different." "Spielerl Kennen Sie 'O Sole Mio' singen?" The shaven-headed German was addressing the singer. He sat only a few feet from the platform. Smiling uneasily, the singer replied in Portuguese, gesturing at his oddly shaped guitar, that he only performed fado songs. In a jolly tone, the German told him to sing "O Sole Mio" anyway. Again the young man made helpless gestures, shaking his head. The German pointed92 a smoking cigar at him, and shouted something in Portuguese that brought dead quiet in the restaurant, even among the British, and froze the faces of the three women at his table. With a piteous look around at the audience, the young performer began to do "O Sole Mio," very badly. The German leaned back, beating time in the air with his cigar. A thick pall93 fell in the restaurant. Natalie said to Thurston, "Let's leave now." "I'm for that." The singer was still stumbling through the Italian song as they walked out. On the counter at the entrance, under a picture of him, phonograph records in paper slipcovers were piled. "If that first song is there," Natalie said to Byron, "buy me a record." He bought two. The streetlights outside were brighter than the illumination in the restaurant, and the wind was cutting. Leslie Slote, tying a muffler around his neck, said to Byron, when do you leave?" "Not till day after tomorrow." 'Years hence, the way I'm counting time," said Natalie with a note of defiance94, hugging her husband's arm. "Well, Natalie, shall I try to get us on a plane to Rome Saturday?" "Oh, wait. Maybe he won't leave. I can always hope." "Of course." Slote held out his hand to Byron. "If I don't see you again, congratulations, and good luck, and smooth sailing.""Thanks. And thanks for that suite. It was brash of us to put you out of it." "My dear fellow," said Slote, "it was quite wasted on me." All her limbs jerking, Natalie woke from a nightmare of Gestapo men knocking at the door. She heard real knocking in the darkness. She lay still, hoping that a trace of the nightmare was hovering95 in her fogged brain, and that the knocking would stop. It did not. She looked at her luminous96 watch and touched Byron's warm hairy leg. "Byron! Byron!" He raised himself on an elbow, then sat up straight. "What time is it?" "Quarter to two." The knocking became faster and louder. Byron jumped from the bed and slipped into a robe. "Briny, be careful about letting anyone in! First make sure who it is." Natalie left the warm nest of the bed and was putting on a negligee, shivering in the chilly98 night air, when Byron opened the bedroom door. "It's only Aster97, so don't be scared." "What does he want?" that's what I'm finding out." The door shut. Natalie went and leaned her ear against it, and heard Tobruk mentioned. Humiliated99 at having to eavesdrop100, she rattled101 the knob and went in. The two young men rose from the sofa where they sat hunched102 in talk. Lieutenant103 Aster, in a blue and gold uniform and white peaked cap, was eating an apple. "Hi, Natalie. This is one terrible thing to do, breaking in on honeymooners," he said cheerily. "Talk about extrahazardous duty!" "What's the matter?" Byron said, "Change of orders, nothing serious or urgent, no sweat 'Right. Matter of fact I was just shoving off." Lieutenant Aster dropped the apple core in a tray. "I have to round up some crew members that had overnights. It's going to be an interesting tour of Estoril and Lisbon after dark. See you, Byron." With a grin at her, and a brief tip of his rakishly tilted104 hat, the lieutenant left. "Well? Tell me." Natalie confronted her husband, arms folded. Byron went to the red marble fireplace and touched a match to papers under a pile of kindlingand logs. "The S-45 leaves this morning." "This very morning, eh? Too bad. Where to?" "I don't know. The fall of Tobruk has changed the mission-which to tell you the truth, I never exactly knew in the first place. Something about surveying submarine facilities in the Mediterranean105." "Well. A-11 right. I guess I asked for this. My entire married life-as it may yet turn outut short by one third." "Natalie, stir married life starts when you get back from Italy." He put his arm around her and they stood watching the fire brighten. "It's going to be very long, happy, and fruitful. I plan on six kids." This made the young wife laugh through her gloom and put a hand to his face. "Oh lord. Six! I'll never last the course. jimmy, that fire feels Marvelous. Did we finish the wine before we went to sleep? Look and see." He brought a glass of wine and lit a cigarette for her. "Briny, one thing you should know. Back in November, Aaron was so sick he thought he might die. I had to take him to a specialist in Rome. It was a kidney stone. He lay in the Excelsior for two weeks, really in torture. Finally it cleared up, but one night, when he was very low, Aaron told me that he'd left everything he has to me. And he told me what it added up to. I was amazed." She smiled at him, sipping106 her wine. Byron looked at her with slitted eyes. "I guess he's sort of a miser107, like most bachelors. That's one reason he moved to Italy. He can live handsomely there on very little. Aaron's actually kept nearly all the money he made on A Jew's Jesus, and it brings in more every year. The book on Paul earned quite a bit too. And before that he'd saved a lot of his professor's salary. Living in Italy, he hasn't even,paid taxes. Aside from the value of his house, Aaron's worth more than a hundred thousand dollars. He lives just on his interest. The money is invested back in New York. I had no idea of any of this. Not the slightest. That he would leave anything to me never crossed my mind. Nevertheless, that's how things stand." Natalie took Byron's chin in her hand and pushed it this way and that. 'What are you looking so grim about? I'm telling you you've married an heiress." Byron poked108 a fallen red coal back into the fire. "Damn. He's really cute. Cuter than I thought.""Are you being fair? Especially with your plan for six kids?" "Possibly not." Byron shrugged109. "Do you have enough money to get home with? You're coming home in two months, no matter what." "I know. I agreed to that. I have plenty. Whew, that fire's beginning to scorch111." She reclined on a couch before the blaze. The negligee fell away, and the light played warmly on her smooth legs. "Briny, does your family know you intended to get married?" "No. No sense making trouble when I wasn't sure it would come off. I did write Warren." 'Is he still in Hawaii?" "Yes. He and Janice love it. I think you and I may well land there. The Navy keeps beefing up the Pacific Fleet. Warren thinks we'll be fighting japan soon. That's the feeling all through the Navy." "Not Germany?" 'No. It may sound strange to you, sitting here, but our people still don't get excited about Hitler. A few newspapers and magazines froth around, but that's about it." He sat on the floor at her feet, looking at the fire, resting his head against her soft uncovered thigh112. She caressed his hair. "Exactly when do you leave, and how?" "Lady's going to corue back for me at six." "Six? Why, that's hours and hours. Big big chunk113 of our marriage left to enjoy. Of course you have to pack." "Ten minutes." "Can I go with you to the boat?" "I don't see why not." With a deep sigh, Natalie said, "Why are you sitting on the floor? Come here." There was no dawn. The sky turned paler and paler until it was light gray. Mist and drizzle114 hid the sea. Lieutenant Aster picked them up in a rattling115 little French car; the back seat was packed with four glum116 sailors smelling of alcohol and vomit117. He drove with one hand, leaning far out to work a broken windshield wiper, keeping the accelerator on the floor.
The foggy road along the river was empty, and they reached Lisbon quickly. The submarine was dwarfed118 by a very rusty119 tramp steamer berthed120 directly ahead, with an enormous Stars and Stripes painted on its side, an American flag flying, and the name Yankee Belle121 stencilled122 in great drippy white letters on bow and stern. Its grotesquely123 cut-up shape and crude revetted plating looked foreign, and thirty or forty years old. It rode so high in the water that much of its propeller124 and mossy red bottom showed. Jews lined the quay125 in the drizzle, waiting quietly to go aboard, most of them with cardboard suitcases, cloth bundles, and frayed126 clothes. The children-there were quite a number-stood silent, clinging to their parents. At a table by the gangway, two uniformed Portuguese officials, under umbrellas held by assistants, were inspecting and stamping papers. Policemen in rubber capes127 paced up and down the queue. The rail of the ship was black with passengers staring at the quay and the Lisbon bills, as freed prisoners look back at the jail to savor128 their liberty. "When did that ocean greyhound show up?" Byron said. "Yesterday morning. It's an old Polish bucket, and the crew are mostly Greeks and Turks," Aster said. "I've tried talking to them. The pleasanter ones seem to be professional cutthroats. I gather the Jews will be packed in like sardines129 in five-decker bunks130, for which they'll pay the price of deluxe131 suites132 on the Queen Mary. These fellows laughed like hell about that." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Well, we cast off at 0715. Good-bye, Natalie, and good luck. You were a beautiful bride, and now you're a beautiful Navy wife." The exec stepped aboard, smartly returning the salute133 of the gangway watch. On the dock near the gangway, unmindful of the rain beginning to fall, a sailor was hugging and kissing a dumpy Portuguese trollop dressed in red satin. Byron held out his arms to his wife, with a glance at the sailor and a grin, She embraced him. "You fool. Your trouble is, you went and married the creature." "I was drunk," Byron said. He kissed her again and again. A boatswain's whistle blew on the submarine, and a loudspeaker croaked134, "Now station the special sea details." "Well, I guess this is it," he said. 'So long." Natalie was managing not to cry; she even smiled. 'Getting married was the right idea, my love. I mean that. It was an inspiration, and I adore you for it. I feel very married. I love you and I'm happy." "I love you." Byron went aboard the submarine, saluting135 as he stepped on deck.
In the thickening drizzle, her raincoat pulled close, her breath smoking in the damp frigid136 air, Natalie stood on the dock, smelling wharfside odorstar, machinery, fish, the sea-hearing the bleak137 cry of the gulls138, and feeling for the first time what she had gotten herself into. She was a Navy wife all right! Three men in black trench139 coats and oversized fedora hats came strolling along the quay, cy inspecting the refugees, who either tried to ignore them or peered at them in horror. Women pulled their children closer. The men halted near the gangway; one pulled papers from a black portfolio140, and they all began talking to the officials at the table. Meanwhile on the submarine sailors in pea coats pulled in the gangplank. The boatswain's whistle blew; the loudspeaker squawked. Appearing on the narrow little bridge in foul141-weather clothes, the captain and Lieutenant Aster waved. "Good-bye, Natalie," Captain Caruso called. She did not see Byron rome out on the forecastle, but after a while noticed Men standing near the anchor among the sailors, in a khaki uniform and a brown windbreaker, hands in his back pockets, trousers flapping in the breeze. it was the first time she had ever seen Byron in a uniform; it made him seem different, remote, and older. Aster was shouting orders through a megaphone. Colored signal flags ran up. The sailors hauled in the lines. Byron walked along the forecastle and stood opposite his bride, almost close enough to reach out and clasp hands. She blew him a kiss. His face under the peaked khaki cap was businesslike and calm. A foghorn142 blasted. The submarine fell away from the dock and black water opened between them. "You come home, now," he shouted. "I will. Oh, I swear I will." "I'll be waiting. Two months!" He went to His duty station. With a swish of water from the propellers143, the low black submarine dimmed away into the drizzle. Craaal Craaal Craaal Mournfully screeching145, the gulls wheeled and followed the fading wake. Natalie hurried up the quay, past the Gestapo men, past the line of escaping Jews, whose eyes were all fixed146 in one direction-the gangway table they still had to pass, where the Portuguese officials and the three Germans were comparing papers and laughing together. Natalie's hand sweatily clutched the American passport in her pocket. "Hello, old Slote," she said, when she found a telephone and managed to make the connection. "This is Mrs. Byron Henry. Are you interested in buying me a breakfast? I seem to be free. Then let's push on to Italy, dear, and get Aaron out. I have to go home." In Washington Victor Henry was reassigned to War Plans. He did not hear from Roosevelt at all. People said the President was unaccountable, and from firsthand knowledge, the naval147 captain was beginning to believe it. But he was untroubled by the assignment, though he hadcraved and expected sea duty. More than anything else-more than the gray hairs beginning to show at his temples, more than the sharper lines on his forehead and around his mouth, more than his calmer pace on the tennis court-his contentment with still another desk job showed how Victor Henry was changing. Washington in January 1941, after London and Berlin, struck him as a depressing panorama148 of arguments, parties, boozing, confusion, lethargy, and luxury, ominously149 like Paris before the fall. It took him a long time to get used to brilliantly lit streets, rivers of cars, rich overabundant food, and ignorant indifference150 to the war. The military men and their wives, when Pug talked to them, discussed only the hairline advantages that the distant explosions might bring in their own tiny lives. Navy classmates of his calibre were stepping into the major sea commands that led to flag rank. He knew he was regarded as a hard-luck guy, a corner sunk by bureaucratic151 mischance. But he had almost stopped caring. He cared about the war; and he cared about the future of the United States, which looked dark to him. The Navy was as preoccupied152 as ever by japan. Every decision of the President to strengthen the Atlantic Fleet caused angry buzzes and knowing headshakes in the Department, and at the Army and Navy Club. When he tried to talk about the Germans, his friends tended to regard him askance; a bypassed crank, their amused glances almost said, trying to inflate154 his importance by exaggerating minor155 matters he happened to know about. The roaring debate over Lend-Lease, in Congress and the newspapers, seemed to him a farrago of illogic and irrelevance156. It suited Hitler's book at the moment not to declare war on the United States-that was all. It apparently157 suited the American people in Turn to fake neutrality while commencing a sluggish158, grudging159 effort on the British side, arguing every inch of the way. These two simple facts were being lost in the storm of words. Pug Henry was content in the War Plans Division because here he worked in another world, a secret, very small world of hard-boiled reality. Early in January, with a few other officers in War Plans, he had begun conversations" with British military men. In theory, Lord Burne-Wilke and his delegation160 were in Washington on vague missions of observing or purchase. Supposedly the talks were low-level explorations binding161 on nobody, and supposedly the President, the Army Chief of Staff, and the Chief of Naval Operations took no cognizance of them. In fact, by the first of March these conferences were finishing up a written war operations plan on a world scale. The assumption was that japan would sooner or later attack, and the key decision of the agreement lay in two words: "Germany first." It heartened Victor Henry that the American Army and Air Corps162 planners concurred163 in this, and ajso, to his considerable surprise and pleasure, Admiral Benton and two other naval colleagues who had thought the war through-unlike the rest of the Navy, still rolling along in the greased grooves164 of the old drills and war games against "Orange," the codename for japan. It was clear to Pug Henry that if japan entered the war, with her annual steel production of only a few million tons, she could not hold out long if Germany were beaten. But if the Germans knocked out the British and got the fleet, they could go on to conquer whole continents, getting stronger as they went, whatever happened to japan. From his conversations at the Army and Navy Club he knew that this "Germany first" decision would, if it came out, create a fearsome howl. He was one of a handful of Americans-perhaps less than twenty, from the President downward-who knew about it. This was a peculiar way to run national affairs, perhaps; but to his amazement165, which never quite faded, this was how things were going. To be part of this crucial anonymous166 work satisfied him. It was passing strange to arrive in the morning at the drab little ofices in a remote wing of the old Navy Building, and sit down with the British for another day of work on global combat plans, after reading in the morning papers, or hearing on the radio, yesterday's shrill167 LendLease argument in Congress. Pug could not get over the cool dissembling of the few high officials who knew of the "conversations." He kept wondering about a form of government which required such deviousness168 in its chiefs, and such soothing169, cajoling fibs to get its legislators to act sensibly. Once the planners, weary after a hammering day, sat in their shirt-sleeves around a radio, listening to General Marshall testify before a Senate committee. They heard this Army Chief of Staff, whose frosty remote uprightness made Henry think of George Washington, assure the senators that no intention existed for America to enter the war, and that at present there was no need for any large buildup of its armed forces. The planners had just been discus an allocation of troops based on an American army of five million in 1943, a projection170 of which Marshall was well aware. 'I don't know," Pug remarked to Burne-Wilke, "maybe the only thing you can say for democracy is that all other forms of government are even worse." "Worse for what?" was the air commodore's acid reply. "If other forms are better for winning wars, no other virtue171 counts." Pug got along well with Burne-Wilke, who had fully144 grasped the landing craft problem. Among the planners, a labored172 joke was spreading about Captain Henry's girlfriend, 'Elsie'; this was in fact a play on L.c. (landing craft), which he kept stressing as the limiting factor of operations in all theatres. Pug had worked up formulas converting any troop movement across water into this and quantities of landing craft, and these formulas threw cold water on many an ambitious and plausible173 plan. Somebody would usually say, 'Pug's girl Elsie acting174 up again"; and Burne-Wilke alwayssupported his insistence175 on this bottleneck176. Henry seldom encountered Pamela Tudsbury, whom the air commodore had brought along as his typist-aide. Tucked in an office in the British Purchasing Nhssion, she evidently worked like a dog, for her face was always haggard. A glad shock had coursed through him when he first saw Pamela, standing at Burne-Wilkes elbow, regarding him with glowing eyes. She had not written that she was coming. They met for a drink just once. Pug amplified177 all he could on his letter about the meeting with Ted19 Gallard. She looked extremely young to him; and his gust54 of infatuation with this girl after the bombing miwon seemed, in the bustling178 Willard bar in Washington, a distant and hardly believable episode. Yet the hour with her was warmly pleasurable. Any day thereafter when he saw her was a good day for him. He left these encounters to chance. He did not telephone her, nor ask her to meet him again; and while she always acted glad to see him, she made no move to do so more often. As a college boy thinks about fame, and an exile about going home, this Navy captain of forty-nine once in a while mused153 on what a romance with the young Englishwoman might be like; but it was the merest daydreaming179. He remained devoted180 to his wife, in his fashion. Rhoda had received her husband back with a puzzling mixture of moods-demonstrative affection, and even lust35, alternating with spells of heavy gloom, coldness, and loud irascibility over her move back to Washington from New York She levelled off to a low-temperature detachment, busying herself with Bundles for Britain and her old-time music committees, and making numerous trips to New York for one reason or another. She sometimes mentioned Palmer Kirby, now one of the chairmen of Bundles for Britain, in a most casual way. Rhoda went to church with Pug, and sang the hymns181, and relayed gossip about unfaithful Navy wives, all exactly as before. She was plainly disappointed when Pug went back to War Plans instead of getting a command at sea. But they settled back into their old routines, and Pug soon was too preoccupied to worry much about Rhoda's moods, which had always been jagged. News about their children intermittently182 drew them together. Byron's offhand183 letter about his hasty marriage in Lisbon was a shock. They talked for days about it, worrying, agonizing184, comforting each other, before resigning themselves to live with the fact. Warren as usual sent the good news. His wife was returning to Washington to have her baby, and he had been promoted to lieutenant. Pug turned fifty on a Sunday early in March. He sat in church beside his wife, trying, as he listened to the choir185 sing "Holy, Holy, Holy," to shake off a sense that he had not-dssed all the right turns in life. He counted his blessings186. His wife was still beautiful, still capable of love; if she had failings, what woman didn't? His two sons were naval officers, his daughter was self-supporting and clever. Perhaps his career had gone off the rails, but he was serving in a post where he was doing some good. He could not really complain.
Rhoda, as she sat there beside him, was thinking mainly about the fact that her husband, for the first time since his return from abroad, would soon be meeting Palmer Kirby face to face. Asnowstorm clogged187 the capital on the night of Rhoda's dinner party. By quarter past seven her guests, including Kirby, had straggled in, brushing and stamping off snow, but the dinner was still stalled. Pug was mussing. In the cramped188 hot kitchen of an elegant little furnished house on Tracy Place, rented from a millionaire bachelor who was now the ambassador to Brazil, Rhoda made a last-minute check of the dinner and found all in order: soup hot, ducks tender, vegetables on the boil, cook snarling189 over the delay. She sailed out to her guests after a scowl190 in the hallway mirror and a touch at her hairdo. Rhoda wore a silvery dress molded to her figure; her color was high, her eyes bright with nervous excitement. In the living room, Kirby and Pamela Tudsbury were talking on the big couch, Madeline and Janice had their heads together in a corner, and on facing settees before a log fire, Alistair Tudsbury and Lord Burne-Wilke were chatting with the recently elected Senator Lacouture and his wife. It was a hodgepodge company, but since it was only for a hurried dinner before a Bundles for Britain concert, she was not too concerned. Pug's meeting with Kirby was the chief thing on her mind. "We'll wait ten more minutes." Rhoda sat herself beside the scientist. "Then we'll have to eat. I'm on the committee." "Where is Captain Henry?" Pamela said calmly. Her mauve dress came to a halter around her neck, leaving her slim shoulders naked; her tawny191 hair was piled high on her head. Rhoda remembered Pamela Tudsbury as a mousy girl, but this was no mouse, Rhoda recognized Kirby's expression of lazy genial192 appetite. 'I'm blessed if I can say. Military secrecy193 covers a multitude of sins, doesn't it?" Rhoda laughed. "Let's hope he's working on defense194, and not a blonde." "I very much doubt that it's a blonde," said Pamela. "Not Captain Henry." "Oh, these goody-goody ones are the wors my dear. That's a dinine dress." "Do you like it? Thank you." Pamela adjusted the skirt. "I feel all got up for a pantomime, almost. I've been in uniform day and night for weeks." "Does Lord Burne-Wilke drive you that hard?" "Oh no, Mrs. Henry. There really are masses of things to do. I feel so lucky at being in Washington, that I guess I work off my guilt195 with the late hours." "The Waring Hotel then would be the best bet, Pamela?" Kirby's tone took up the conversation Rhoda had broken into. "If they've repaired the bomb.damage. By now, they should have.
The Germans went after Buckingham Palace very hard, and the whole neighborhood took quite a beating, but that was back in October." I'll shoot a cable to the Waring tomorrow." "Why, Palmer, are you going to London?" said Rhoda. Kirby turned to her, crossing his long legs. "It appears so." "Isn't that something new?" "It's been in the works for a while." "London! How adventurous196." Rhoda laughed, covering her surprise. Mrs. Lacouture's voice rose above the talk. "Janice, should you be drinking all those martinis?" "Oh, Mother," said Janice, as the white-coated old Filipino, a retired197 Navy steward198 hired by Rhoda for the evening, shakily filled the glass in her outstretched hand. 'That baby wig199 be born with an olive in its mouth," remarked the senator. The two Englishmen laughed heartily200, and couture's pink face wrinkled up with self-satisfaction. " So, you did see Byron," Janice said to Madeline. "When was this?" 'A couple of weeks ago. His submarine put in at the Brooklyn Navy Yard overnight. He took me to dinner." "How was he?" "He's-I don't know-more distant. Almost chilly. I don't think he likes the Navy much." 'Maybe he doesn't like being married much," Janice said. 'I never heard of anything so peculiar! A couple of days of whoop-de-do in Ilsbon, and back she goes to Italy, and off he chugs in his little S-boat. y on earth did they bother to get married?" "Well, possibly a Jewish girl would insist," Madeline said in arch tones. Janice laughed shortly. "That may well be. I'll say this, she's a mighty bright and pretty one." She grimaced201, moving her large stomach under her flowing green gown, trying to get more comfortable. "Ugh, what a bloated cow I am. This is what it all leads to, honey. Never forget it. And how's your love life?" 'Oh dear. Well-" Madeline glanced toward her mother. "You remember that trombone player? With the big sad eyes, the one who dressed all in brown?" "That Communist? Oh, Madeline, don't tell me-" "Oh, no, no.
Bozey was an utter drip. But I went with him to this peace rally at Madison Square garden. It was really something, Jan! Packed, and this gigantic red, white, and blue sign stretching clear across the garden-nm Ys men NoT comiNG'-Madeline waved her hands far apart-"and all these Loyalist Spain songs, and these mass chants they do, and novelists and poets and college professors making red-hot antiwar speeches and whatnot. Well, there was this other fellow in our box. He writes horror programs. He's very successful, he makes about five hundred dollars week, and he's handsome, but he's another Communist." Madeline sneezed, blew her nose, an(a) d looked slyly at Janice. "What do you think would jolt202 my family more, Byron's Jewish girl or a Communist? Bob comes from Nhnnesota, he's a Swede at least. He's awfully203 nice." Janice said, "What about that boss of yours?" "Hugh Cleveland? What about him?" The two young women regarded each other. Wry204 knowing wrinkles turned up the corners of Janice's mouth. Madeline colored under the rouge205 and powder on her pallid206 face. "Yes? Why the grin, Janice?" She drank most of her martini. "Oh, I don't know. You keep taking up with one impossible fcllo'A, after another." "If you mean am I lying in wait for Mr. Cleveland," Madeline said with her father's briskness207, "you're about as wrong as you can be. He's a paunchy pink-haired freckled208 man, ten years older than I am, and personally I regard him as a snake." "Snakes have the power to hypnotize, dear." " Yes, rabbits and birds. I'm neither." Rhoda went to a small Chinese Chippendale desk to answer the telephone. "Oh, hello there," she said. "Where are you?... Oh, my gawd... of course... yes, naturally. Okay. I'll leave your ticket at the box office. Yes, yes, they've been here for hours. Right. Bye, dear." She hung up, and fluttered her long pale hands at the company. "Well, let's drink up. Pug sends apologies. He's at the White House and he doesn't know when he can get away.") In Washington, when the absent diner is at the White House, the empty chair is not an embarrassment209. Quite the contrary. Nobody asked what Victor Henry was doing at the executive mansion210, or indeed commented on Rhoda's words. She put Burne-Wilke on her right and the senator on her left, saying, "After all these years protocol211 still baffles me.
How do you choose between a United States Senator and a British lord? I'm favoring our foreign guest, Senator." "Absolutely proper," said Lacouture. Alistair Tudsbury said, "Lord Burne-Wilke will gladly yield you his seat on this occasion, Senator, if he can take yours when Lend-Lease comes to a vote." "Oh, done, done," exclaimed the air commodore, whose bemedalled dress uniform dazzled Rhoda. Everyone laughed, Tudsbury loudest of all. "Haw haw haw!" The correspondent's belly212 shook under a vast expanse of wrinkled waistcoat, spanned by an enormous suspension of gold chain. Rhoda said, "Well, what good spirits! I was half afraid our English friends would eat Senator Lacouture alive." The senator wrinkled his eyes. "You British aren't that hard up for meat ye are you?" He added after the laugh, "No, seriously, Rhoda, I'm glad you brought us together. Maybe I've convinced our friends that I'm not a Nazi-lover, but just one fellow out of ninety-six, with my own point of view. I certainly don't go for this talk of Senator Wheeler's, that LendLease will plow43 under every fourth American boy. That's way out of bounds. But if Roosevelt wants to send England arms free of charge, why the devil doesn't he come out and say so, instead of giving us all this LendLease baloney? It insults our intelligence." "I went to a peace rally in New York," Madeline piped up. "One speaker told a good story. A p tramp stops a rich man on the street. 'Please, mister, give me a quarter, Im starving," he says. The rich man says, "My dear fellow, I can't give you a quarter. I can lend you or lease you a quarter." Senator Lacouture burst out laughing. "By God, I'll work that into my next speech." From across the table, Palmer Kirby said, "Are you sure you want to draw on a Communist source?" "Was that one of those Commie meetings? Well, a story's a story." "It's so crazy," said Janice. 'I got stuck in a raid on Pennsylvania Avenue this afternoon, in front of the White House. We just couldn't move. The newsreel people were there, taking pictures of the pickets213. Communists with signs marching round and round in a circle, chanting, 'The Yanks are not coming," and next to them a mob of women kneeling and praying, right there on the sidewalk in the snow, The Christian Mothers of America. They'll pray there round the clock, my driver said, until LendLease is defeated or vetoed. Honestly! Coming from Hawaii, I get the feeling the country's going mad." "It just shows how broad the opposition214 to this thing is," said the senator. "Cuts across all lines." "On the contrary," put in Kirby, "both extremes seem to be against helping215 England, while themass in the middle is for it." Senator Lacouture waved a flat hand in the air. "No, sir. I've been a middle-of-the-roader all my life. You should hear some of the quiet talk in the Senate dining room. I tell you, if they didn't have to worry about the big-city Jews-and I don't blame the Jews for feeling as they do, but this issue can't be decided216 on any parochial basis-there'd be twenty more votes on my side of the fence right now. I still think they'll end there. The nose count changes every day. If the ground swell217 continues for another week, we'll lick this thing." The street door opened and closed. Victor Henry came into the dining room, brushing flakes218 of snow from his blue bridge coat. "Apologies to all hands," he said, doffing219 the coat. "No, no, don't get up, I'll just join you, and change my duds later." But the men were all standing. Victor Henry walked around the table for handshakes, and came last to Palmer Kirby. "Hello," he said. "It's been a long time." "Sure has. Too long." Only Rhoda knew the scientist well enough to note that his smile was awkward and artificial. At this moment, which she had been dreading220 for a couple of weeks, Rhoda had a surprising sensation-pleasure and pride that two such men loved her. She felt no trace of guilt as her lover clasped hands with her husband of twenty-five years. Kirby was more than a head taller than Captain Henry, and in the columnar black and white of full dress he was a magnificent fellow. Yet Pug was impressive too: erect221, short, thickset, his tired eyes in deep sockets222 very shrewd and alive, his whole bearing charged with energy-her own husband, just back from the White House. Rhoda felt lucky, beautiful, desired, pleasantly confused, and quite safe. It was actually one of the nicest moments in her life, and it went off like a dream. Pug took his seat and began eating shrimp223 cocktail224. "Say, it's a bit late for this," he remarked to Kirby, "but I sure want to thank you for driving Rhoda up from New York last summer to see Byron at sub school. That was a long way." Kirby spread his big hands. y, it was great to get a look at a submarine base. Your friend Captain Tully really gave us the ten-dollar tour." "Red Tully is 4-0," Pug said. 'I sort of suspect he nudged Byron through that school. However, I've asked no questions." It was exciting as a play for Rhoda, that the two men were actually talking straight off about that fateful trip. She said gaily225, "Oh, Pug, you're always selling poor Briny short-Red told us he was the champion of his Plass in the training tank. Caught on to the lung right away, and did his escape perfectly226 the first time cool as a fish. Why, when we were there they had him instructing in the tank." "That's self-preservation, not work. Briny's always been good at that.""That's a talent, too," said Pamela Tudsbury. Pug looked at her with a trace of special warmth. "Well, Pamela, one can't get far without it, that's true. But it's the talent of a tu e." "Honestly! Did you ever?" Rhoda said to Lord Burne-Wilke. "What a father." Mrs. Lacouture uttered a little shriek227. The old steward was offering soup to Lord Burne-Wilke, and distracted by the Englishman's medals, he was tilting228 the tray. The open soup tureen went slipping toward Rhoda, and her silver dress was seconds away from ruin. But as the tureen came sliding off the tray, Rhoda, who had a watchful229 eye for servants, plucked it out of the air, and with the quick controlled movements of a cat in trouble, set it on the table, not spilling a drop. Pug called out over the gasps230 and laughter, "Well done." "Self-preservation runs in the family," Rhoda said. Amid louder laughter, Alistair Tudsbury started a round of applause. "By God! Never have I seen anything so neat," exclaimed Senator Lacouture. Everybody had a joke or a compliment for Rhoda. She became exhilarated. Rhoda loved to entertain. She had the ability to nail down details beforehand, and then breeze airily through the evening. Rhoda told stories of mishaps231 at dinner parties in Berlin, and began to reminisce with sharp satire232 about the Nazis. Forgotten was her former friendliness233 to the Germans; she was now the Bundles for Britain lady, partisan234 to the core. Palmer Kirby, getting over his nervousness in Pug's presence, threw in his experiences at a Nuremberg Parteitag. Pug offered an account of the slide at Abendruh, making the women giggle235. Then Lord Burne-Wilke gave jocular anecdotes236 about the arrogance237 of captured Luftwaffe pilots. Senator Lacouture interrupted him. "Lord Burne-Wilke, were you people ever really in trouble last year?" "Oh, rather." The air commodore told of the dwindling238 of planes and pilots through July and August, of the week in September when the count of pilots fell below the survival minimum, of the desperate pessimism239 in the R.A.F all through October, with London burning, civilians240 dying in large numbers, no night fighters available, and the Luftwaffe still coming on and on, setting fire to residential241 districts and bombing and spreading the fires, trying to break the city's spirit. Lacouture probed with more questions, his pink face growing sober. The R.A.F, the air commodore said, was anticipating a new, larger onslaught in the spring andsummer. The submarine sinkings, at their present rate, might ground the British planes for lack of fuel. An invasion would then be in the cards. 'Mind you, we hope to weather all this," he said, "but this time, Hitler may have the wherewithal. He's expanded his armed forces massively. We haven't been idle either. But unfortunately a lot of our stuff is ending up these days at the bottom of the Atlantic." Lacouture's fingers were rolling little balls of bread. He looked straight at the air commodore. "Well," he said, 'nobody's comparing the British and the Nazis as people, as civilizations. You people have been fine, and I'll tell you, possibly we should be hearing a bit more of this stuff up on the hill." Lord Burne-Wilke, with a humble242 little bow that made the party laugh, said, "I'm available." While the others had dessert, Victor Henry changed into his dress uniform. The guests were wrapping up to brave the snow when he rejoined them. He helped Pamela Tudsbury into her coat, scenting243 perfume that stirred his memory. She said over her shoulder, "There's news of Ted." For a moment Victor Henry didn't understand. On the Bremen she had slipped across the joke about Hitler in just that swift quiet way. "Oh? Really? Good or bad?" "Won't you telephone me?" "Yes." "Do. Please do. Do." The party separated into three cars, with Pug driving the British guests. He said to the air commodore, as they stopped on Massachusetts Avenue at a red light that made a cherry-colored halo in the falling snow, "You scored some points with Senator Lacouture." "Words over wine," said the air commodore, shrugging. w v v ell! Nobody's seen Constitution Hall looking like this before," Rhoda said, "or ever will again, maybe. It's fantastic." Every seat was filled. All the men in the orchestra, and many up the long side slopes wore full dress stilts244 or goldsted military uniforms. The women made a ' sea of uncovered skin, bright colors, and winking245 gems246. Great American and British flags draped the stage. Rhoda had taken for herself two boxes nearest to the President's. The Lacoutures with Janice, the air commodore, and Alistair Tudsbury were ensconced in the choicer. one, and she and Pamela sat at the rail in the other, with Pug and Kirby cehind them, and Madeline in the rear. A commotion247 arose in the aisle248 behind them among police guards and latecomers. A murmurwashed across the auditorium249, and the Vice250 President and His wife stepped into the presidential box, into a blue-white spotlight. The audience stood and applauded. Henry Wallace responded with a self-conscious smile and a brief wave. He looked like an intelligent farmer, unhappily wearing full dress for some anniversary. The orchestra struck up "The Star-Spangled Banner," and then 'God Save the King." The British anthem251, with the nearness of Pamela Tudsbury's bare white shoulders, awakened252 the London days and nights in Victor Henry's mind. As the audience settled in its seats and the violins began the slow introduction of a Haydn symphony, Pug's thought wandered through the blitz, the bombing run over Berlin, the German capital showing yellow in the 'light under the Hare of the exploding gas, Pamela flinging herself at him as he came into his apartment. The music broke into a dancing allegro253 and brought him back to the present. Pug studied the profile of his wife, sitting in her usual concertgoing pose-back straight, hands folded in lap, head tilted to suggest attentive254 pleasure. He thought how charming she could be and how splendidly she had carried off the dinner. A wisp of guilt touched him for the affection he felt for Pamela Tudsbury. Victor Henry was inexpert at self-excuse, having done too few things in his life of which he disapproved255. Rhoda herself couldn't have been more at ease. The music of Haydn delighted her. She loved being highly visible in her new silver dress in a box so near the Vice President. She was pleased that the concert was a sellout. She looked forward to the supper-dance afterward256. All this splendid fun was actually work in the noblest of causes, and her name stood high on the committee list. How could things be better? Only Palmer Kirby's news that he was going to England troubled her a bit. She meant to ask him more questions about that. No doubt Dr. Kirby had his thoughts, and Pamela hers. The two intruders on the long marriage, with the husband and wife, looked much like dozens of other foursomes in boxes along both sides of the cavernous hall: attractive people, elegantly clad, calmly listening to music. Kirby was sitting behind Rhoda, Pug in back of Pamela Tudsbury. A stranger might have guessed that the tall people were one pair, the short ones another, except that the smaller woman seemed young for the naval officer with the weathered face and heavy eyebrows257. During the intermission crush, Victor Henry and Dr. Kirby were left together by the ladies in an overheated lobby foul with smoke. Pug said, 'How's for a breath of air? Looks like the snow's stopped." "You're on." Chauffeurs258 were stamping by their limousines259 on the fresh snow. It was bitter cold. A few young music lovers from the rearmost seats, in sweaters and parkas,chatted with smoking breaths on the slushy steps of the hall. Pug said, "Anything very new on uranium?" The scientist looked at him with head aslant260. "what's uranium?" "Are you that far along?" Pug grinned. Kirby slowly shook his head, making a discouraged mouth. "Are the Germans going to beat us to it?" The answer was a shrug110. 'As you know, I'm in War Plans," Victor Henry said curtly261. "I'm pushing you on this because we ought to have the dope, and we can't get it. If this other thing is really in the works, maybe we're just playing tic-tac-toe in our shop." Kirby stuited his pipe and lit it. "You're not playing tic-tac-toe. It's not that close. Not on our side." "Could we be doing more about it?" "One hell of a lot more. I'm going to England on this. They're apparently far ahead of us." "They've been ahead on other things," Pug said. "That's something nobody mentions in this brainless Lend-Lease dogfight. We have to be goddamned glad we've got the British scientists on our side, and we better break our necks to keep them there." "I tend to agree. But we're ahead of them in many things too." Kirby puffed262 his pipe, squinting263 at Pug. "Are you happy to be home?" "Happy?" Pug scooped264 up snow and packed a snowball. The crunching265 snow in his warm hands always gave him an agreeable flash of childhood. "I'm too busy to think about it. Yes, I guess I'm happy." He pegged266 the snowball over the cars into the empty street. "Rhoda was sick of Berlin, and being there by myself was certainly grim." "She's a superb hostess, Rhoda," said Kirby. "I've never attended better dinner parties than hers. That was something, the way she rescued that tureen." The pipe in his teeth, Kirby uttered a harsh laugh. "Really something." "Among her other talents," said Pug, "Rhoda's always been a born juggler267." Kirby wrinkled his whole face. "It's pretty sharp out here at that, eh? Let's go back." At the top of the stairs they encountered Madeline hurrying out, her white fox coat wrapped close around her long dress, a red shawl on her hair tied under her chin.
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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fortress
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drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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descend
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ragged
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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scraps
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spoke
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alley
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stinks
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gasp
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maroon
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| v.困住，使（人）处于孤独无助之境；n.逃亡黑奴；孤立的人；酱紫色，褐红色；adj.酱紫色的，褐红色的 | |
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Portuguese
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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16
apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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17
endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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18
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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20
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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21
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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23
briny
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| adj.盐水的；很咸的；n.海洋 | |
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24
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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25
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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26
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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27
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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28
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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29
intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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30
streak
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|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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31
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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32
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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33
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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34
longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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35
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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36
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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37
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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38
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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39
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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40
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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41
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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42
plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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43
plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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44
syllabus
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| n.教学大纲，课程大纲 | |
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45
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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46
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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47
sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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48
brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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49
cliche
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| n./a.陈词滥调(的)；老生常谈(的)；陈腐的 | |
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50
banal
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| adj.陈腐的，平庸的 | |
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51
culmination
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| n.顶点；最高潮 | |
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52
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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53
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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54
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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55
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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56
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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57
edgy
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| adj.不安的；易怒的 | |
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58
tariff
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| n.关税，税率；(旅馆、饭店等)价目表，收费表 | |
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59
fend
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| v.照料（自己），（自己）谋生，挡开，避开 | |
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60
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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61
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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62
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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63
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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64
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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65
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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66
valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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67
commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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68
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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69
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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70
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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71
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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72
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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73
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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74
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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75
rumbles
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| 隆隆声，辘辘声( rumble的名词复数 ) | |
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76
chattering
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|
| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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77
amiably
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|
| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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78
giggling
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|
| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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79
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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80
lull
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|
| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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81
boisterous
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|
| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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82
oblivious
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|
| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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83
remarkable
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|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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84
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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85
repudiated
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|
| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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86
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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87
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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88
spotlight
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| n.公众注意的中心，聚光灯，探照灯，视听，注意，醒目 | |
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89
clove
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| n.丁香味 | |
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90
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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91
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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92
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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93
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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94
defiance
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|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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95
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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96
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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97
aster
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| n.紫菀属植物 | |
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98
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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99
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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100
eavesdrop
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|
| v.偷听，倾听 | |
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101
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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102
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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103
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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104
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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105
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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106
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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107
miser
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| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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108
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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109
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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110
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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111
scorch
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| v.烧焦，烤焦；高速疾驶；n.烧焦处，焦痕 | |
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112
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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113
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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114
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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115
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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116
glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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117
vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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118
dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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119
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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120
berthed
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| v.停泊( berth的过去式和过去分词 )；占铺位 | |
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121
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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122
stencilled
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| v.用模板印（文字或图案）( stencil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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124
propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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125
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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126
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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128
savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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129
sardines
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| n. 沙丁鱼 | |
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130
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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131
deluxe
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| adj.华美的，豪华的，高级的 | |
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132
suites
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| n.套( suite的名词复数 )；一套房间；一套家具；一套公寓 | |
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133
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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134
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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135
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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136
frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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137
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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138
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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139
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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140
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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141
foul
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|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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142
foghorn
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| n..雾号（浓雾信号） | |
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143
propellers
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器( propeller的名词复数 ) | |
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144
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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145
screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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146
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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147
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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148
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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149
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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150
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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151
bureaucratic
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| adj.官僚的，繁文缛节的 | |
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152
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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153
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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154
inflate
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| vt.使膨胀，使骄傲，抬高（物价） | |
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155
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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156
irrelevance
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| n.无关紧要；不相关；不相关的事物 | |
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157
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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158
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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159
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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160
delegation
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| n.代表团；派遣 | |
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161
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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162
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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163
concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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164
grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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165
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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166
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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167
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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168
deviousness
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169
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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170
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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171
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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172
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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173
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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174
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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175
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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176
bottleneck
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| n.瓶颈口，交通易阻的狭口；妨生产流程的一环 | |
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177
amplified
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| 放大，扩大( amplify的过去式和过去分词 )； 增强； 详述 | |
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178
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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179
daydreaming
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| v.想入非非，空想( daydream的现在分词 ) | |
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180
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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181
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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182
intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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183
offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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184
agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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185
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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186
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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187
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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188
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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189
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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190
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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191
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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192
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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193
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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194
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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195
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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196
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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197
retired
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|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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198
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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199
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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200
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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201
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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202
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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203
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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204
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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205
rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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206
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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207
briskness
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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208
freckled
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|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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210
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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211
protocol
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| n.议定书，草约，会谈记录，外交礼节 | |
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212
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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213
pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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214
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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215
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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216
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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217
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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218
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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219
doffing
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| n.下筒，落纱v.脱去，（尤指）脱帽( doff的现在分词 ) | |
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220
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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221
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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222
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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223
shrimp
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| n.虾，小虾；矮小的人 | |
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224
cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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225
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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226
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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227
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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228
tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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229
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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230
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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231
mishaps
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| n.轻微的事故，小的意外( mishap的名词复数 ) | |
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232
satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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233
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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234
partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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235
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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236
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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237
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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238
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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239
pessimism
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| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
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240
civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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241
residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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242
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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243
scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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244
stilts
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| n.（支撑建筑物高出地面或水面的）桩子，支柱( stilt的名词复数 )；高跷 | |
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245
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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246
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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247
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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248
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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249
auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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250
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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251
anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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252
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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253
allegro
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| adj. 快速而活泼的；n.快板；adv.活泼地 | |
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254
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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255
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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256
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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257
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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258
chauffeurs
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| n.受雇于人的汽车司机( chauffeur的名词复数 ) | |
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259
limousines
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| n.豪华轿车( limousine的名词复数 )；（往返机场接送旅客的）中型客车，小型公共汽车 | |
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260
aslant
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| adv.倾斜地；adj.斜的 | |
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261
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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262
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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263
squinting
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|
| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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264
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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265
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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266
pegged
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| v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的过去式和过去分词 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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267
juggler
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| n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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