the telephone we were leaving for Budapest
that afternoon), and sorry especially about the hour limit for lunch. It was
some scientific equipment that had to be constantly tended, otherwise of
course he could and would have got away for longer. The explanation took the
sting out of his behavior, and I gave him a look that told myself that I
still liked him. Then the proprietor came up with a greasy typewritten menu,
everything very cheap, and I realized how far Brad had developed from the shy
boy who had timidly asked me to suggest some expensive London hotel where he
could wine and dine my parents in the style to which they were accustomed.
Obviously now he took the view that what was good enough for him was good
enough for anybody, and on the whole I approved the change, though it would
doubtless show itself truculently till he got used to it. He seemed much more
than six months older to me, but that again was likable; it gave the
impression of an adult process, a maturing of personality, nothing to cause
worry about what had “happened” to him. I commented that he did not drink or
smoke, but he said he did sometimes, an occasional cigarette or glass of
beer. “And it’s uncommonly good beer in Vienna,” he assured me, as if he had
been a connoisseur of beer in many other cities; it was almost reassuring to
find that his naďveté, though disappearing, was still there in patches.
The food was not bad for its price, and I noticed that he got special
attention from the waitress who served us and who talked to him familiarly in
German. His own replies were halting, and he said he made a point of
practicing on her as much as possible, because textbook German, which he
could read quite well, was so heavy and uncolloquial.
All in all, he looked settled and by no means unhappy, and after what had
been in my mind as a possibility I was much relieved. He also said, when I
asked, that his work was making progress, though of course it had so far
hardly more than begun.
“And how do you like Framm?”
“He’s remarkable. His sort of mathematics is beyond anything I could have
dreamed of.”
“So he’s teaching you?”
“He’s giving me time to learn. He has to, before I can be of any use to
him. It’s like a new language—in fact, that’s what it really is.”
“And what about him being of use to you?”
“Naturally that goes with it. I can’t ever be grateful enough to your
father for giving me such a chance.”
“You still haven’t told me how you like him, though. Framm, I mean.”
“He can be very charming.”
“But do you like him?”
“Well enough. And it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t. He’s the sort of man you
don’t have to like.”
I said I didn’t know what kind of man that was.
He laughed and said: “All women like him, anyhow.”
“That’s still not an answer.”
“All right … let’s change the subject. How’s Hampstead?”
“Fine…. Do you still manage to get your long Sunday walks?”
“I’ve been to the Semmering several times. That’s not far away. Very
beautiful country.”
“And altogether you’re quite happy in Vienna?”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, that’s fine too.” We sat over coffee and I told him about my
failure to pass the examination. He sympathized. “But you’ll try again next
year?”
“If I’m still in London. I don’t have any exact plans. I’m beginning to
think I’d like to earn a living.”
“How?”
“That’s the trouble. Journalism maybe. I’d like to get on a paper but the
fact that my father controls one inhibits me. I’ve a feeling I’d either be
favored or else never be given credit even if I deserved any. Perhaps I could
change my name.”
“The easiest way to do that would be to get married.” It was the sort of
remark he couldn’t possibly have made a year before, but there was still
naivete in it—a small boy’s approach to intimacy.
I said: “Yes, if there were anyone
that afternoon), and sorry especially about the hour limit for lunch. It was
some scientific equipment that had to be constantly tended, otherwise of
course he could and would have got away for longer. The explanation took the
sting out of his behavior, and I gave him a look that told myself that I
still liked him. Then the proprietor came up with a greasy typewritten menu,
everything very cheap, and I realized how far Brad had developed from the shy
boy who had timidly asked me to suggest some expensive London hotel where he
could wine and dine my parents in the style to which they were accustomed.
Obviously now he took the view that what was good enough for him was good
enough for anybody, and on the whole I approved the change, though it would
doubtless show itself truculently till he got used to it. He seemed much more
than six months older to me, but that again was likable; it gave the
impression of an adult process, a maturing of personality, nothing to cause
worry about what had “happened” to him. I commented that he did not drink or
smoke, but he said he did sometimes, an occasional cigarette or glass of
beer. “And it’s uncommonly good beer in Vienna,” he assured me, as if he had
been a connoisseur of beer in many other cities; it was almost reassuring to
find that his naďveté, though disappearing, was still there in patches.
The food was not bad for its price, and I noticed that he got special
attention from the waitress who served us and who talked to him familiarly in
German. His own replies were halting, and he said he made a point of
practicing on her as much as possible, because textbook German, which he
could read quite well, was so heavy and uncolloquial.
All in all, he looked settled and by no means unhappy, and after what had
been in my mind as a possibility I was much relieved. He also said, when I
asked, that his work was making progress, though of course it had so far
hardly more than begun.
“And how do you like Framm?”
“He’s remarkable. His sort of mathematics is beyond anything I could have
dreamed of.”
“So he’s teaching you?”
“He’s giving me time to learn. He has to, before I can be of any use to
him. It’s like a new language—in fact, that’s what it really is.”
“And what about him being of use to you?”
“Naturally that goes with it. I can’t ever be grateful enough to your
father for giving me such a chance.”
“You still haven’t told me how you like him, though. Framm, I mean.”
“He can be very charming.”
“But do you like him?”
“Well enough. And it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t. He’s the sort of man you
don’t have to like.”
I said I didn’t know what kind of man that was.
He laughed and said: “All women like him, anyhow.”
“That’s still not an answer.”
“All right … let’s change the subject. How’s Hampstead?”
“Fine…. Do you still manage to get your long Sunday walks?”
“I’ve been to the Semmering several times. That’s not far away. Very
beautiful country.”
“And altogether you’re quite happy in Vienna?”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, that’s fine too.” We sat over coffee and I told him about my
failure to pass the examination. He sympathized. “But you’ll try again next
year?”
“If I’m still in London. I don’t have any exact plans. I’m beginning to
think I’d like to earn a living.”
“How?”
“That’s the trouble. Journalism maybe. I’d like to get on a paper but the
fact that my father controls one inhibits me. I’ve a feeling I’d either be
favored or else never be given credit even if I deserved any. Perhaps I could
change my name.”
“The easiest way to do that would be to get married.” It was the sort of
remark he couldn’t possibly have made a year before, but there was still
naivete in it—a small boy’s approach to intimacy.
I said: “Yes, if there were anyone
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