“On a warm evening late in September, Mandelbaum sat by the window with Rossman, exchanging a few low-voiced words. The room was unlit, full of night. Far below them the city of Manhattan glowed with spots of radiance, not the frantic flash and glare of earlier days but the lights of a million homes. Overhead, there was a dull blue wash of luminance across the sky, flickering and glimmering on the edge of visibility. The Empire State Building was crowned with a burning sphere like a small sun co...me to rest, and the wandering air held a faint tingle of ozone. The two men sat quietly, resting, smoking the tobacco which had again become minutely available, Mandelbaum’s pipe and Rossman’s cigarette like two ruddy eyes in the twilit room. They were waiting for death. “Wife,” said Rossman with a note of gentle reproach. It could be rendered as: (I still don’t see why you wouldn’t tell your wife of this, and be with her tonight. It may be the last night of your lives.) “Work, city, time,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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