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"
Excuse
me
for
living
,
"
said
Justine
,
not
proof
against
a
good
joke
even
when
she
was
its
victim
.
"
Her
motor
is
as
good
as
ever
,
"
said
Herr
Hartheim
,
the
amusement
working
fascinating
changes
in
his
face
.
His
English
was
so
good
he
hardly
had
an
accent
,
but
it
had
an
American
inflection
;
he
rolled
his
r
's
.
The
tea
came
before
everyone
settled
down
again
,
and
oddly
enough
it
was
Herr
Hartheim
who
poured
,
handing
Justine
her
cup
with
a
much
friendlier
look
than
he
had
given
her
at
introduction
.
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"
In
a
British
community
,
"
he
said
to
her
,
"
afternoon
tea
is
the
most
important
refreshment
of
the
day
.
Things
happen
over
teacups
,
do
n't
they
?
I
suppose
because
by
its
very
nature
it
can
be
demanded
and
taken
at
almost
any
time
between
two
and
five-thirty
,
and
talking
is
thirsty
work
.
"
The
next
half
hour
seemed
to
prove
his
point
,
though
Justine
took
no
part
in
the
congress
.
Talk
veered
from
the
Holy
Father
's
precarious
health
to
the
cold
war
and
then
the
economic
recession
,
all
four
men
speaking
and
listening
with
an
alertness
Justine
found
absorbing
,
beginning
to
grope
for
the
qualities
they
shared
,
even
Dane
,
who
was
so
strange
,
so
much
an
unknown
.
He
contributed
actively
,
and
it
was
n't
lost
upon
her
that
the
three
older
men
listened
to
him
with
a
curious
humility
,
almost
as
if
he
awed
them
.
His
comments
were
neither
uninformed
nor
naïve
,
but
they
were
different
,
original
,
holy
.
Was
it
for
his
holiness
they
paid
such
serious
attention
to
him
?
That
he
possessed
it
,
and
they
did
n't
?
Was
it
truly
a
virtue
they
admired
,
yearned
for
themselves
?
Was
it
so
rare
?
Three
men
so
vastly
different
one
from
the
other
,
yet
far
closer
bound
together
than
any
of
them
were
to
Dane
.
How
difficult
it
was
to
take
Dane
as
seriously
as
they
did
!
Not
that
in
many
ways
he
had
n't
acted
as
an
older
brother
rather
than
a
younger
;
not
that
she
was
n't
aware
of
his
wisdom
,
his
intellect
or
his
holiness
.
But
until
now
he
had
been
a
part
of
her
world
.
She
had
to
get
used
to
the
fact
that
he
was
n't
anymore
.
"
If
you
wish
to
go
straight
to
your
devotions
,
Dane
,
I
'll
see
your
sister
back
to
her
hotel
,
"
commanded
Herr
Rainer
Moerling
Hartheim
without
consulting
anyone
's
wishes
on
the
subject
.
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And
so
she
found
herself
walking
tongue-tied
down
the
marble
stairs
in
the
company
of
that
squat
,
powerful
man
.
Outside
in
the
yellow
sheen
of
a
Roman
sunset
he
took
her
elbow
and
guided
her
into
a
black
Mercedes
limousine
,
its
chauffeur
standing
to
attention
.
"
Come
,
you
do
n't
want
to
spend
your
first
evening
in
Rome
alone
,
and
Dane
is
otherwise
occupied
,
"
he
said
,
following
her
into
the
car
.
"
You
're
tired
and
bewildered
,
so
it
's
better
you
have
company
.
"
"
You
do
n't
seem
to
be
leaving
me
any
choice
,
Herr
Hartheim
.
"