me. We are not
acting entirely unselfishly, of course. That is not the point."

"Then what is the point? And first I'd be pleased to know what it is
you're after."

"The point is survival, Governor, the lessons of which..... Nevermind.
As for Britain's further intentions, I can only say that we want
nothing from the Irish of New Belfast, except perhaps a posture more
open to diplomacy and trade."

"And now you'll be telling us how to survive," stole Gale gruffly.

"There are many kinds of survival, Governor, and many threats to them
all, as we both know. There is undoubtedly a kind of survival that the
English could learn from you: faith in life, perhaps, or the freeing
of caged emotions." Witherspoon was himself aware that his tone had
grown more confidential, and that he was violating the learned rules of
diplomacy.

But he let it happen. He loved this place and its people, if not
always understanding them, and instinct, or something deeper, told him
that calm indifference would get him nowhere. "If I may say this much,
man to man, I would advise you. . .ask you. . .to accept help where and
how you find it. We were in a similar position once ourselves, not so
very long ago. During the Blitzkrieg our need was every bit as
desperate. We had to relearn a good deal that we thought we knew, and
reassess what was truly strong in ourselves."

"That was an entirely different matter." With this Gale's assistant
tapped his watch, as if to remind him of something.

"You will excuse me, Consul."

"Yes, Governor. I will return tomorrow and we may discuss it further.
I'll leave the full proposal here for you to study, if you wish."
Witherspoon reached into a leather briefcase, pulled forth a bound
manuscript. "Is two o'clock agreeable?"

"Of course."

They shook hands at parting, and Gale could not help noticing, almost
in spite of himself, that the Englishman's grip was firm, and that he
looked him straight in the eye.

*

The next day at (precisely) two o'clock he returned. The same haggard
look on Gale's wrinkled face, the same deep oak paneling, the same
brandy. Only this time, Witherspoon noted, the Governor drank
considerably more of it. Also, there was no assistant.

"I have been reading Blackthorne's proposal, Consul, so that now I know
the details of what you're offering, though little more of what you
intend." He looked up searchingly, surprisingly, into the other's
eyes. "Listen