understandable on that basis.”
Warren said firmly from the middle of the table, “I don’t see how the President’s revision would weaken our neutrality, sir. Cash and carry simply means anybody can come and buy stuff who has the ships to haul it off and the money to pay for it, Anybody, Hitler included.”
Lacouture smiled at him. “The administration would be proud of you, my boy. That’s the line. Except we all know that the Allies have the ships and the money, and the Germans have neither. So this would put our factories into the war on the Allied side.”
“But nobody ever stopped Hitler from building a merchant marine,” Warren promptly came back. “Piling up tanks, subs, and dive bombers instead was his idea. All aggressive weapons. Isn’t that his tough luck?”
“Warren’s absolutely right,” Janice said.
Lacouture sat back in his chair, staring at his daughter, who smiled back impudently.
“What both of you kids don’t or won’t understand,” Lacouture said, “is that this proposal is the camel’s nose under the tent flap. Of course it
A small bald man with a hearing aid, seated across the table from Pug, said, “Damn right.”
Lacouture inclined his head at him. “You and I realize that, Ralph, but it’s amazing how few intelligent people do, as yet. The citadel of sanity. Ready to pick up the pieces when it’s over and rebuild a decent world. That’s the goal. I’m going back to Washington to fight like an alligator for it, believe you me. I’ll be marked mud among a lot of my Democratic colleagues, but on this one I go my own way.”
When dinner ended, Janice and Warren left the club together, not waiting for coffee, and not troubling to explain. The girl smiled roguishly, waved a hand, and disappeared in a whirl of silky legs and pink chiffon. Warren halted long enough to make an early morning tennis date with his father. Victor Henry found himself isolated with Lacouture over rich cigars, coffee, and brandy in a corner of a lounge, in red leather armchairs. The congressman rambled about the charms of life in Pensacola — the duck-hunting, the game-fishing, the rear-round good weather, and the swiftly advancing prosperity. The war would make it a real boomtown, he said, between the expansion of the Navy air base and the spurt in the lumber trade. “Creosoted telephone poles. You take that one item, Commander. Our company’s had some unbelievable orders, just in the last week, from North Africa, Japan, and France. The whole world’s stringing wires all of a sudden. It’s an indication.”
He tried to persuade Henry to stay over one day. A ship carrying mahogany was due in from Dutch Guiana at noon. It would dump the logs in the harbor, and lumber workers would lash them into rafts and tow them up the bayou. “It’s quite a sight,” he said.
“Well, I’ve got this chance to fly back to New York with an old buddy. I’d better go.”
“And from there to Berlin, via Lisbon?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Not much chance of our paths crossing then, in the near future,” Lacouture said. “Your wife’s a Grover, isn’t she? Hamilton Grover up in Washington is a friend of mine; we have lunch at the Metropolitan Club about once a month. Pug nodded. Hamilton Grover was the wealthiest of the cousins, rather beyond Rhoda’s orbit.
“And you’re a Henry. Not one of those Virginia Henrys that go back to old Patrick?”
Henry laughed, shaking his head. “I doubt it. I’m from California.”
“Yes, so Warren told me. I mean originally.”
“Well, my great-grandfather came west before the gold rush. We’re not sure from where. My grandfather died young and we never got the story straight.”
“You’re probably Scotch-Irish.”
“Well, no, sort of mixed. My grandmother was French and English.”
“That so? We’ve got some French in our family ourselves. Not a bad thing, hey? Gives the men that certain touch in
“Well, thanks. Your girl is beyond words.”
Lacouture sighed deeply. “A girl’s a problem. Warren tells me you have one, so you know. They’ll fool you every time. We weren’t as lucky as you, we have no boys. All Warren wants to do is fly airplanes the rest of his life for the Navy, right?”
“Well, those wings of gold look awfully big to him now, Congressman.”
Lacouture puffed at his cigar. “I liked the way he talked up at dinner. Of course he’s naive about foreign affairs. You learn a lot about the outside world in the lumber business.” Lacouture swirled the large brandy snifter. “No doubt you’re glad to see Warren carrying on the Navy tradition. Wouldn’t want to see him shift over into business, or anything like that.” The congressman smiled, showing his tongue and good but crooked teeth like his daughter’s.
“Warren goes his own way, Congressman.”
“I’m not so sure. He thinks the world of his dad.”
The talk was getting awkward for Victor Henry. He had married a girl much better off than himself, and he had doubts about such a course in life. Nor did he especially like Janice Lacouture. Once the incandescence died down, she would be as tough as her father, who was already and openly weighing the notion of swallowing Warren. He said, “Well, until the war ends he’s in, and that’s that.”
“Of course. But that may not be for long, you know. If we can just stay out, it’ll be over in a year or so. Maybe less. As soon as the Allies are positive they can’t suck us in, they’ll make the best deal they can get. They’d be nuts to try anything else. Well, I’ve enjoyed visiting with you, Commander. What the hell? No sense trying to anticipate what the kids nowadays will do anyway. Is there? It’s a different world than when you and I grew up.”
“That’s for sure.”
Next morning, promptly at six-thirty, Warren appeared in his father’s room. Not saying much, and rubbing his bloodshot and baggy eyes, he drank the orange juice and coffee brought by the steward. A strong wind still blew outside, and he and his father wore sweaters as they volleyed and began to play. Pug ran up three games. The balls soared erratically here and there.
“Have a good time last night?” Pug called, as Warren knocked one flying over the fence, and the wind bore it up on the roof of a nearby cottage.
Warren laughed, stripped his sweater off, and won the next five games, regaining his fast drive and his mid- court smash. The father was a plugging, solid player with an iron backhand, but he had to conserve his breath.
“Goddamn it, Warren if you’ve got a point won, win it,” he gasped. The son had passed up an easy kill to hit the ball where Pug could reach it.
“The wind took it, Dad.”
“The hell it did.”
Now Pug threw off his sweater, answered several of his son’s smashes, caught his second wind, and drew even. “Whew! I’ve got to quit. Ground school,” Warren called, mopping his face with a towel. “You’ve really kept your game up, Dad.”
“Well, in Berlin we lucked into a house with a court. You’ve played better.”
Warren came to the net. He was pouring sweat, his eyes were clear, and he looked eager and happy. “You had more sleep.”
“Quite a girl, that Janice.”
“She’s got a head on her shoulders, Dad. She knows a hell of a lot of history.” The father gave him a quizzical look. They both burst out laughing. “All the same it’s true. She does know history.”
