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He sighed. "Ah, well, 'ours not to reason why.'"

During dinner, I contended that he might find it even more interesting to work in Washington than in Europe. He would not be persuaded. I couldn't reach him. The last evening in New York was not a [[strikethrough]] pappy [[/strikethrough]] happy one.

The next day, Pat left for Washington and I for San Francisco. This was in the first week of July, 1947.

From time to time we had long telephone conversations. In one of these, he mentioned that he needed some new clothes. He certainly did. I had never known a man with so little interest in what he wore. "Let me send you the material for a suit," I sail [[said]. "I know exactly the thing." It was not strictly true. I just wanted the fun of shopping for him. I sent him some of our own light grey tweed. Then I began mailing neck-