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"
No
.
Only
,
he
asked
me
about
it
,
when
we
were
driving
down
.
He
wanted
to
know
if
I
’
d
read
it
.
"
"
It
was
in
German
!
"
"
Yes
,
dear
.
That
doesn
’
t
make
any
difference
,
"
said
the
girl
,
crossing
her
legs
.
"
He
said
that
the
poems
happen
to
be
written
by
the
only
great
poet
of
the
century
.
He
said
I
should
’
ve
bought
a
translation
or
something
.
Or
learned
the
language
,
if
you
please
.
"
"
Awful
.
Awful
.
It
’
s
sad
,
actually
,
is
what
it
is
.
Your
father
said
last
night
-
"
"
Just
a
second
,
Mother
,
"
the
girl
said
.
She
went
over
to
the
window
seat
for
her
cigarettes
,
lit
one
,
and
returned
to
her
seat
on
the
bed
.
"
Mother
?
"
she
said
,
exhaling
smoke
.
"
Muriel
.
Now
,
listen
to
me
.
"
"
I
’
m
listening
.
"
"
Your
father
talked
to
Dr
.
Sivetski
.
"
"
Oh
?
"
said
the
girl
.
"
He
told
him
everything
.
At
least
,
he
said
he
did
-
you
know
your
father
.
The
trees
.
That
business
with
the
window
.
Those
horrible
things
he
said
to
Granny
about
her
plans
for
passing
away
.
What
he
did
with
all
those
lovely
pictures
from
Bermuda
-
everything
.
"
