The Hotel New Hampshire Part 32

'It was just a f.u.c.king o.r.g.a.s.m o.r.g.a.s.m,' Freud said. 'Haven't you ever had had one, for Christ's sake?' Freud blundered forward with his hand on Susie's back; he struck the door a blow with his baseball bat, then fumbled for the k.n.o.b. 'Annie?' he called. I noticed Jolanta close behind Freud, like his larger shadow - her fierce hands in her dark purse. Susie made a convincing one, for Christ's sake?' Freud blundered forward with his hand on Susie's back; he struck the door a blow with his baseball bat, then fumbled for the k.n.o.b. 'Annie?' he called. I noticed Jolanta close behind Freud, like his larger shadow - her fierce hands in her dark purse. Susie made a convincing snorfle snorfle at the base of the door. at the base of the door.

'An o.r.g.a.s.m?' said the woman from New Hampshire - her husband automatically covered the daughter's ears.

'My G.o.d,' Franny would say later. 'They would bring their daughter to see a murder, but they wouldn't even let her hear hear about an o.r.g.a.s.m. Americans sure are strange.' about an o.r.g.a.s.m. Americans sure are strange.'

Susie the bear shouldered the door, knocking Freud off balance. The end of his Louisville Slugger skidded along the hall floor, but Jolanta caught the old man and propped him up against the doorjamb, and Susie roared into the room. Screaming Annie was naked, except for her stockings and her garter belt; she was smoking a cigarette, and she leaned over the completely unmoving man on his back on the bed and blew smoke into his face; he didn't flinch, or cough, and he was naked except for his ankle-length dark green socks.

'Dead!' gasped the woman from New Hampshire.

'Tod?' whispered Freud. 'Somebody tell me!'

Jolanta took her hands out of her purse and sunk a fist in the man's groin. His knees snapped up all by themselves and he coughed; then he went flat again.

'He's not dead,' Jolanta said, and muscled her way out of the room.

'He just pa.s.sed right out on me,' Screaming Annie said. She seemed surprised. But I would think, later, that there was no way you could keep both sane and conscious when you were deluded into thinking that Screaming Annie was coming. It was probably safer to pa.s.s out than to hang on and go home crazy.

'Is she a wh.o.r.e wh.o.r.e?' the husband asked, and this time it was the woman from New Hampshire who covered her daughter's ears; she tried to cover the girl's eyes eyes, too.

'What are you, blind blind?' Freud asked. 'Of course she's a wh.o.r.e!'

'We're all all wh.o.r.es,' Dark Inge said, coming from nowhere and hugging her mother - glad to see she was all right. 'What's wrong with that?' wh.o.r.es,' Dark Inge said, coming from nowhere and hugging her mother - glad to see she was all right. 'What's wrong with that?'

'Okay, okay,' Father said. 'Everyone back to bed!'

'These are your children children?' the New Hampshire woman asked Father; she wasn't sure which of us to indicate with her sweep of the hand.

'Well, some some of them are,' Father said, amiably. of them are,' Father said, amiably.

'You should be ashamed,' the woman told him. 'Exposing children to this sordid life.'

I don't think it had occurred to Father that we were being 'exposed' to anything particularly 'sordid.' Nor was the New Hampshire woman's tone of voice anything Father ever would have heard from my mother. But nonetheless my father seemed suddenly stricken by this accusation. Franny said later that she could see in the genuine bewilderment on his face - and then the growing look of something as close to guilt as we would ever see in him - that despite the sorrow Father's dreaming might cause us, we would always prefer him dreamy to guilty; we could accept him as being out of it out of it, but we couldn't like him as much if he were truly a worrier, if he had been truly 'responsible' in the way that fathers are expected to be responsible.

'Lilly, you shouldn't be here, darling,' Father said to Lilly, turning her away from the door.

'I should think not not,' said the husband from New Hampshire, now struggling to keep both his daughter's eyes and ears covered at the same time - but unable to tear himself away from the scene.

'Frank, take Lilly to her room, please,' Father said, softly. 'Franny?' Father asked, 'are you okay, dear?'

'Sure,' Franny said.

'I'm sorry, Franny,' Father said, steering her down the hall. 'For everything,' he added.

'He's sorry sorry!' said the woman from New Hampshire, facetiously. 'He exposes his children to such disgusting filth as this and he's sorry sorry!' But Franny turned on her. We might criticize Father, but no one else could.

'You dead c.u.n.t,' Franny said to the woman.

'Franny!' Father said.

'You useless t.w.a.t,' Franny told the woman. 'You sad wimp,' she told the man. 'I know just the man to show you what's "disgusting," ' she said. 'Aybha, or gajasana gajasana,' Franny said to them. 'You know what that that is?' But I knew; I could feel my hands start to sweat. 'The woman lies p.r.o.ne,' Franny said, 'and the man lies on top of her pressing his is?' But I knew; I could feel my hands start to sweat. 'The woman lies p.r.o.ne,' Franny said, 'and the man lies on top of her pressing his loins loins forward and curving the small of his back.' The woman from New Hampshire shut her eyes upon mention of the word 'loins'; the poor husband seemed to be trying to cover the eyes and ears of his entire family at once. 'That's the elephant position,' Franny said, and I shuddered. The 'elephant position' was one of the two main positions (with the cow position) in the forward and curving the small of his back.' The woman from New Hampshire shut her eyes upon mention of the word 'loins'; the poor husband seemed to be trying to cover the eyes and ears of his entire family at once. 'That's the elephant position,' Franny said, and I shuddered. The 'elephant position' was one of the two main positions (with the cow position) in the vyanta vyanta group; it was the elephant position that Ernst spoke of in the dreamiest way. I thought I was going to be sick, and Franny suddenly started to cry. Father took her down the hall, quickly - Susie the bear, worriedly but ever bear-like, went whining after them. group; it was the elephant position that Ernst spoke of in the dreamiest way. I thought I was going to be sick, and Franny suddenly started to cry. Father took her down the hall, quickly - Susie the bear, worriedly but ever bear-like, went whining after them.

The customer who'd pa.s.sed out when Screaming Annie finished the Krugerstra.s.se came to. He was awfully embarra.s.sed to find Freud, me, the New Hampshire family, Screaming Annie, her daughter, and Babette all looking at him. At least, I thought, he was spared the bear - and the rest of my family. Late as usual, Old Billig wandered in; she'd been asleep.

'What's going on?' she asked me.

'Didn't Screaming Annie wake you, too?' I asked her.

'Screaming Annie doesn't wake me up anymore,' Old Billig said. 'It's those d.a.m.n world planners up on the fifth floor.'

I looked at my watch. It was still before two in the morning. 'You're still asleep,' I whispered to Old Billig. 'The radicals don't come this early.'

'I'm wide-awake,' Old Billig said. 'Some of the radicals never went home last night. Sometimes they stay all night. And they're usually quiet. But Screaming Annie must have disturbed them. They dropped something. Then they were hissing like snakes, trying to pick whatever it was up.' of the radicals never went home last night. Sometimes they stay all night. And they're usually quiet. But Screaming Annie must have disturbed them. They dropped something. Then they were hissing like snakes, trying to pick whatever it was up.'

'They shouldn't be here at night night,' Freud said.

'I've seen enough of this sordidness,' the New Hampshire woman said, seeming to feel ignored.

'I've seen it all,' Freud said, mysteriously. 'All the sordidness,' he said. 'You get used to it.' the sordidness,' he said. 'You get used to it.'

Babette said she'd had enough for one night; she went home. Screaming Annie put Dark Inge back to bed. Screaming Annie's embarra.s.sed male companion tried to leave as inconspicuously as possible, but the New Hampshire family watched him all the way out of the hotel. Jolanta joined Freud and Old Billig and me at the second-floor landing. We listened up the stairwell, but the radicals - if they were there - were quiet now.

'I'm too old for the stairs,' Old Billig said, 'and too smart to poke my nose where I'm not wanted. But they're up there,' she said. 'Go see.' Then she turned back to the street - to the gentle occupation.

'I'm blind,' Freud admitted. 'It would take me half the night to climb those stairs, and I wouldn't see anything if they were were there.' there.'

'Give me your baseball bat,' I said to Freud. 'I'll go see.'

'Just take me with you,' Jolanta said. 'f.u.c.k the bat.'

'I need the bat, anyway,' Freud said. Jolanta and I said good night to him and started up the stairs.

'If there's anything to it,' Freud said, 'wake me up and tell me about it. Or tell me about it in the morning.'

Jolanta and I listened for a while on the third-floor landing, but all we could hear was the New Hampshire family sliding every object of furniture against their doors. The youthful Swedish couple had slept through it all - apparently used to some kind of o.r.g.a.s.m; or used to murder. The old man from Burgenland had possibly died in his room, shortly after checking in. The bicyclists from Great Britain were on the fourth floor, and probably too drunk to be aroused, I thought, but when Jolanta and I paused on the fourth-floor landing and listened for the radicals, we encountered one of the British bicyclists there.

'b.l.o.o.d.y strange,' he whispered to us.

'What is?' I said.

'Thought I heard a b.l.o.o.d.y scream,' he said. 'But it was down downstairs. Now I hear them dragging the body round up upstairs. b.l.o.o.d.y odd.'

He looked at Jolanta. 'Does the tart speak English?' he asked me.

'The tart's with me,' I said. 'Why not just go back to bed?' I was perhaps eighteen or nineteen on this night, I think; the effects of the weight lifting, I noticed, were beginning to impress people. The British bicyclist went back to bed.

'What do you think is going on?' I asked Jolanta, nodding upstairs, toward the silent fifth floor.

She shrugged; it was nowhere near Mother's shrug, or Franny's shrug, but it was a woman's shrug. She put her big hands in the deadly purse.

'What do I care what's going on?' she asked. 'They might change the world,' Jolanta said of the radicals, 'but they won't change me me.'

This somehow rea.s.sured me, and we climbed to the fifth floor. I hadn't been up there since I'd helped move the typewriters and office equipment, three or four years ago. Even the hall looked different. There were a lot of boxes in the hall, and jugs - of chemicals or wine? I wondered. More chemicals than they needed for the one mimeograph machine, anyway - if they were chemicals. Fluids for the car, I might have thought; I didn't know. I did the unsuspecting thing; I knocked on the first door Jolanta and I came to.

Ernst opened it; he was smiling. 'What's up?' he asked. 'Can't sleep? Too many o.r.g.a.s.ms?' He saw Jolanta just behind me. 'Looking for a more private room?' he asked me. Then he asked us in.

The room adjoined two others - I remembered that it was once joined to only one one other - and its furnishings looked substantially different, although, over the years, I had not seen a single large item carried in or out; just those things I a.s.sumed Schraubenschlussel needed for the car. other - and its furnishings looked substantially different, although, over the years, I had not seen a single large item carried in or out; just those things I a.s.sumed Schraubenschlussel needed for the car.

Schraubenschlussel was in the room, and Arbeiter - the ever-working Arbeiter. It must have been one of the large battery-type boxes that Old Billig and I had heard fall off a table, because the typewriters were in another part of the room; clearly no one had been typing. There were some maps - or maybe they were blueprints - spread about, and there was the automobile-like equipment one a.s.sociates with service garages, not offices: chemical things, electrical things. The radical Old Billig, who'd called Arbeiter crazy, was not there. And my sweet Fehlgeburt, like a good student of American literature, was either home reading or home asleep. In my opinion, just the bad bad radicals were there: Ernst, Arbeiter, and Wrench. radicals were there: Ernst, Arbeiter, and Wrench.

'That was one h.e.l.l of an o.r.g.a.s.m tonight!' Schraubenschlussel said, leering at Jolanta.

'Another fake,' Jolanta said.

'Maybe that that one was real,' Arbeiter said. one was real,' Arbeiter said.

'Dream on,' Jolanta said.

'You've got the tough one following you around, eh?' Ernst said to me. 'You've got the tough piece of meat with you, I see.'

'All you do is write about it,' Jolanta said to him. 'You probably can't get it up.'

'I know just the position for you,' Ernst told her.

But I didn't want to hear it. I was frightened of them all.

'We're going,' I said. 'Sorry to disturb you. We just didn't know anyone was here at night.'

'The work backs up if we don't occasionally stay late,' Arbeiter said.

With Jolanta at my side, her strong hands hugging something in her purse, we said good night. And it was not not my imagination that - just as I was leaving - I caught sight of another figure in the shadows of the farthest adjoining room. She also had a purse, but what she had in her purse was out - in her hand, and trained on Jolanta and me. It was just a glimpse I had of her, and her gun, before she slipped back in the shadows and Jolanta closed the door. Jolanta didn't see her; Jolanta just kept watching Ernst. But I saw her: our gentle, mother-like radical, Schw.a.n.ger - with a gun in her hand. my imagination that - just as I was leaving - I caught sight of another figure in the shadows of the farthest adjoining room. She also had a purse, but what she had in her purse was out - in her hand, and trained on Jolanta and me. It was just a glimpse I had of her, and her gun, before she slipped back in the shadows and Jolanta closed the door. Jolanta didn't see her; Jolanta just kept watching Ernst. But I saw her: our gentle, mother-like radical, Schw.a.n.ger - with a gun in her hand.

'What do you have in your purse, anyway?' I asked Jolanta. She shrugged. I said good night to her, but she slipped a big hand down the front of my pants and held me a moment; I'd hopped out of bed and into some clothes so fast that I'd not taken the time for underwear. 'You going to send me out on the street again?' she asked me. 'I want just one more trick before I call it a night.'

'It's too late for me,' I said, but she could feel me growing hard in her hand.

'It doesn't feel feel too late,' she said. too late,' she said.

'I think my wallet's in another pair of pants,' I lied.

'Pay me later,' Jolanta said. 'I'll trust you.'

'How much?' I asked, when she squeezed harder.

'For you, only three hundred Schillings,' she said. For everyone everyone, I knew, it was three hundred Schillings.

'It's too much,' I said.

'It doesn't feel feel like too much,' she said, giving me a sharp twist; I was very hard at the moment, and it hurt. like too much,' she said, giving me a sharp twist; I was very hard at the moment, and it hurt.

'You're hurting me,' I said. 'I'm sorry, but I don't want to.

'You want to want to, all right,' she said, but she let me go. She looked at her watch; she shrugged again. She walked down the stairs to the lobby with me; I said good night to her again. When I went to my room and she went out on the Krugerstra.s.se, Screaming Annie was coming back in - with another victim. I lay in bed wondering if I could fall soundly enough asleep so that the next fake o.r.g.a.s.m would leave me alone; then I thought I'd never make it, so I lay awake waiting for it - after which, I hoped, I'd have plenty of time for sleep. But this one was a long time coming; I began to imagine that it had already happened, that I had dozed off and missed it, and so - like life itself - I believed that what was about about to happen had already taken place, was already over, and I allowed myself to forget it, only to be surprised by it moments later. Out of that soundest sleep - right when you've first fallen off-Screaming Annie's fake o.r.g.a.s.m dragged me. to happen had already taken place, was already over, and I allowed myself to forget it, only to be surprised by it moments later. Out of that soundest sleep - right when you've first fallen off-Screaming Annie's fake o.r.g.a.s.m dragged me.

'Sorrow!' Frank cried in his dreams, like poor Iowa Bob startled by his 'premonition' of the beast who would do him in.

I swear I could feel Franny tense in her sleep. Susie snorted. Lilly said, 'What?' The Hotel New Hampshire shuddered with the silence following a thunderclap. Perhaps it was later, actually in my sleep, that I heard something heavy being carried downstairs, and out the lobby door, to Schraubenschlussel's car. At first I mistook the cautious sound for Jolanta carrying a dead customer out to the street, but she wouldn't have bothered about trying to be quiet. I am just imagining this, I said in my sleep, when Frank knocked on the wall.

'Keep pa.s.sing the open windows,' I whispered. Frank and I met in the hall. We watched the radicals loading the car through the lobby window. Whatever they were loading looked heavy and still; at first I thought it might be the body of Old Billig - the radical - but they were being too careful with whatever it was for the thing to be a body. Whatever it was required propping up in the backseat, between Arbeiter and Ernst. Then Schraubenschlussel drove whatever it was away.

Through the window of the departing car, Frank and I saw the mysterious thing in silhouette - slightly slumped against Ernst, and bigger than him, and tilting away from Arbeiter, whose arm was ineffectually wrapped around it, as if he were hopelessly trying to reinterest a lover who was leaning toward someone else. The thing - whatever it was - was quite clearly not human, but it was somehow strangely animal in its appearance. I'm sure, now, of course, that it was completely mechanical, but its shape shape seemed animal in the pa.s.sing car - as if Ernst the p.o.r.nographer and Arbeiter held a seemed animal in the pa.s.sing car - as if Ernst the p.o.r.nographer and Arbeiter held a bear bear between them, or a big dog. It was just a carload of sorrow, as Frank and I - and all of us - would learn, but its mystery plagued me. between them, or a big dog. It was just a carload of sorrow, as Frank and I - and all of us - would learn, but its mystery plagued me.

I tried to describe it (and what Jolanta and I had seen on the fifth floor) to Father and Freud. I tried to describe the feeling of it all to Franny and Susie the bear, too. Frank and I had the longest talk about Schw.a.n.ger. 'I'm sure you're mistaken about the gun,' Frank said. 'Not Schw.a.n.ger. She might have been there. She might have wanted you to not not a.s.sociate her with a.s.sociate her with them them, and so she was hiding from you. But she wouldn't have a gun. And certainly she would never have pointed it at you. We're like her children - she's told us! You're imagining again,' Frank said.

Sorrow floats; seven years in a place you hate is a long time. At least, I felt, Franny was safe; that was always the main thing. Franny was in limbo. She was taking it easy, marking time with Susie the bear - and so I felt comfortable treading water, too.

At the university, Lilly and I would major in American literature (Fehlgeburt would be so pleased). Lilly majored in it, of course, because she wanted to be a writer - she wanted to grow. I majored in it as yet another indirect way of courting the aloof Miss Miscarriage; it seemed the most romantic thing to do. Franny would major in world drama - she was always the heavyweight among us; we would never catch up. And Frank took Schw.a.n.ger's motherly and radical advice; Frank majored in economics. Thinking of Father and Freud, we all realized someone ought ought to. And Frank would be the one to save us, in time, so we would all be grateful to economics. Frank actually had a dual major, although the university would give him only a degree in economics. I guess I could say that Frank to. And Frank would be the one to save us, in time, so we would all be grateful to economics. Frank actually had a dual major, although the university would give him only a degree in economics. I guess I could say that Frank minored minored in world religions. 'Know thine enemy,' Frank would say, smiling. in world religions. 'Know thine enemy,' Frank would say, smiling.

For seven years we all all floated. We learned German, but we spoke only our native language among ourselves. We learned literature, drama, economy, religion, but the sight of Freud's baseball bat could break our hearts for the land of baseball (though none of us was much interested in the game, that Louisville Slugger could bring tears to our eyes). We learned from the wh.o.r.es that, outside the Inner City, the Mariahilfer Stra.s.se was the most promising hunting-ground for ladies of the night. And every wh.o.r.e spoke of getting out of the business if she was ever demoted to the districts past the Westbahnhof, to the Kaffee Eden, to the one-hundred-Schilling standing f.u.c.ks in the Gaudenzdorfer Gurtel. We learned from the radicals that prost.i.tution wasn't even officially floated. We learned German, but we spoke only our native language among ourselves. We learned literature, drama, economy, religion, but the sight of Freud's baseball bat could break our hearts for the land of baseball (though none of us was much interested in the game, that Louisville Slugger could bring tears to our eyes). We learned from the wh.o.r.es that, outside the Inner City, the Mariahilfer Stra.s.se was the most promising hunting-ground for ladies of the night. And every wh.o.r.e spoke of getting out of the business if she was ever demoted to the districts past the Westbahnhof, to the Kaffee Eden, to the one-hundred-Schilling standing f.u.c.ks in the Gaudenzdorfer Gurtel. We learned from the radicals that prost.i.tution wasn't even officially legal legal - as we had thought - that there were registered wh.o.r.es who played by the rules, got their medical checkups, trafficked in the right districts, and that there were 'pirates' who never registered, or who turned in a - as we had thought - that there were registered wh.o.r.es who played by the rules, got their medical checkups, trafficked in the right districts, and that there were 'pirates' who never registered, or who turned in a Buchl Buchl (a license) but continued to practice the profession: that there were almost a thousand registered wh.o.r.es in the city in the early 1960s; that decadence was increasing at the necessary rate for the revolution. (a license) but continued to practice the profession: that there were almost a thousand registered wh.o.r.es in the city in the early 1960s; that decadence was increasing at the necessary rate for the revolution.

Actually what what revolution was supposed to take place we never learned. I don't know if all the radicals were sure, either. revolution was supposed to take place we never learned. I don't know if all the radicals were sure, either.

'Got your Buchl Buchl?' we children would ask each other, going to school - and, later, going to the university.

That, and - 'Keep pa.s.sing the open windows': the refrain from our King of Mice song.

Our father seemed to have lost his character character when our mother was lost to him. In seven years, I believe, he grew to be more of a presence and less of a person - for us children. He was affectionate; he could even be sentimental. But he seemed as lost to us (as a father) as Mother and Egg, and I think we sensed that he would need to endure some more concrete suffering before he would gain his character back - before he could actually when our mother was lost to him. In seven years, I believe, he grew to be more of a presence and less of a person - for us children. He was affectionate; he could even be sentimental. But he seemed as lost to us (as a father) as Mother and Egg, and I think we sensed that he would need to endure some more concrete suffering before he would gain his character back - before he could actually become become a character again: in the way Egg had been a character, in the way Iowa Bob had been one. I sometimes thought that Father was even less of a character than Freud. For seven years we missed our father, as if he had been on that plane. We were waiting for the hero in him to take shape, and perhaps doubting its final form - for with Freud as a model, one had to doubt my father's vision. a character again: in the way Egg had been a character, in the way Iowa Bob had been one. I sometimes thought that Father was even less of a character than Freud. For seven years we missed our father, as if he had been on that plane. We were waiting for the hero in him to take shape, and perhaps doubting its final form - for with Freud as a model, one had to doubt my father's vision.

In seven years I would be twenty-two; Lilly, trying to grow and grow, would grow to be eighteen. Franny would be twenty-three - with Chipper Dove still 'the first,' and Susie the bear her one-and-only. Frank, at twenty-four, grew a beard. It was almost as embarra.s.sing as Lilly's wanting to be a writer.

Moby-d.i.c.k would sink the Pequod Pequod and only Ishmael would survive, again and again, to tell his tale to Fehlgeburt, who told it to us. In my years at the university, I used to press upon Fehlgeburt my desire to hear her read and only Ishmael would survive, again and again, to tell his tale to Fehlgeburt, who told it to us. In my years at the university, I used to press upon Fehlgeburt my desire to hear her read Moby-d.i.c.k Moby-d.i.c.k aloud to me. 'I can never read this book by myself,' I begged her. 'I have to hear it from you.' aloud to me. 'I can never read this book by myself,' I begged her. 'I have to hear it from you.'

And that, at last, provided me with the entrance to Fehlgeburt's cramped, desultory room behind the Rathaus, near the university. She would read to me in the evenings, and I would try to coax out of her why some of the radicals chose to spend the night in the Hotel New Hampshire.

'You know,' Fehlgeburt would tell me, 'the single ingredient in American literature that distinguishes it from other literatures of the world is a kind of giddy, illogical hopefulness. It is quite technically sophisticated while remaining ideologically naive,' Fehlgeburt told me, on one of our walks to her room. Frank would eventually take the hint, and no longer accompany us - though this took him about five years. And the evening Fehlgeburt told me that American literature was 'quite technically sophisticated while remaining ideologically naive' was not not the evening I first tried to kiss her. After the line 'ideologically naive,' I think a kiss would have seemed out of place. the evening I first tried to kiss her. After the line 'ideologically naive,' I think a kiss would have seemed out of place.

The night I first kissed Fehlgeburt we were in her room. She had just read that part when Ahab refuses to help the captain of the Rachel Rachel search for the lost son. Fehlgeburt had no furniture in her room; there were too many books, and a mattress on the floor - a mattress for a single bed - and a single reading lamp, also on the floor. It was a cheerless place, as dry and as crowded as a dictionary, as lifeless as Ernst's logic, and I leaned across the uncomfortable bed and kissed Fehlgeburt on the mouth. 'Don't,' she said, but I kept kissing her until she kissed me back. 'You should go,' she said, lying down on her back and pulling me on top of her. search for the lost son. Fehlgeburt had no furniture in her room; there were too many books, and a mattress on the floor - a mattress for a single bed - and a single reading lamp, also on the floor. It was a cheerless place, as dry and as crowded as a dictionary, as lifeless as Ernst's logic, and I leaned across the uncomfortable bed and kissed Fehlgeburt on the mouth. 'Don't,' she said, but I kept kissing her until she kissed me back. 'You should go,' she said, lying down on her back and pulling me on top of her.

'Now?' I said.

'No, now now it is not necessary to go,' she said. Sitting up, she started to undress; she did it the way she usually marked her place in it is not necessary to go,' she said. Sitting up, she started to undress; she did it the way she usually marked her place in Moby-d.i.c.k Moby-d.i.c.k - uninterestedly. - uninterestedly.

'I should go after after?' I asked, undressing myself.

'If you want,' she said. 'I mean you should go from the Hotel New Hampshire. You and your family. Leave Leave,' she said. 'Leave before the fall season.'

'What fall season?' I asked her, completely naked now. I was thinking about Junior Jones's fall season with the Cleveland Browns.

'The Opera season,' Fehlgeburt said, naked herself - at last. She was as thin as a novella; she was no bigger than some of the shortest stories she had ever read to Lilly. It was as if all the books in her room had been feeding on her, had consumed - not nourished - her.