Her dad made her quit school. Can we talk sometime today?” she asked.“I have a break between classes from 11:45 to 1:30,” he offered.“Noon in ...ront of the library?” she asked.“How about noon in front of TJ’s and I’ll buy lunch,” he countered. TJ’s was one of two small restaurants on campus. It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, but the food was markedly better than the school cafeteria. They also served beer to those students old enough to drink--which he wasn’t.“I’ll be there,” she replied. I was not to speak a single word of her story until she was dead. She trusted me. I had given my word as a gentleman. She made me say the words, “as a gentleman.” If you had met her you would understand what I mean. She came from an era when women wore hats and gloves. Oh and men were “gentlemen.” So until now I have carried this story inside. With the email from her son Jean I was free of that gentleman’s promise. So here goes. Mayfair Apartment, London, October 19, 1955 Svetlana gazed out. More

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