Swoboda looked at Mr. Bekkus with something more than his usual composure. It was part of Swoboda’s misfortune that he pitied Mr. Bekkus; that in his resistance to Mr. Bekkus he was inhibited by the knowledge that Mr. Bekkus was pathetic. Not that this insight was in itself supernatural—for others would have quickly arrived at the same conclusion—but what made Swoboda unusual was that he persisted in the belief even though he had spent some years in the power of Mr. Bekkus and had suffered from the silliness and insensibility that constituted Mr. Bekkus’s pathos. By now, surely, the sense of pathos might have given way to indignation at being subordinate to such a figure. But no. Swoboda had never said to anyone, “I’m sorry for him” (although, in the Organization, this was a recognized means of expressing contempt for an unsympathetic superior—“I’m sorry for him, I truly am; he’s pathetic” being uttered frequently and fiercely through clenched teeth). He had not even said it to himself. But in his heart he knew that Bekkus was a foolish man, a small, ignorant, and pretentious man, and that he, Swoboda, was his superior in all but official rank. Swoboda was aware that Mr. Bekkus had treated him ungenerously, had often been petty and unjust. He sometimes dwelt on this, almost hopefully, in his mind. But it was no use. He continued to find Mr. Bekkus pathetic. And therein lay Swoboda’s misfortune—one might even have said, Swoboda’s tragedy.

“I suppose,” Mr. Bekkus began, as if Swoboda had requested the interview, “you will want to discuss certain factors of your situation.” Personal matters, for Bekkus, came in situations, elements, and factors. When Swoboda said nothing, he went on. “As you know, I myself have done everything possible to expedite the processing of your upgrading.” After a pause he added, “That goes without saying.” Swoboda evidently concurred in this, for another silence fell. “There are some very slow-thinking individuals on the Promotions Board, Swoboda. And then, when you see who is accepted…” He lightly dashed the promotion list with the back of his hand as if Swoboda would hardly wish to make one of such a disreputable company. “Well, we all know the delays that—ah—mitigate against rapid advancement in the junior grades. But I think I can assure you, Swoboda, that your upgrading will be followed through in the foreseeable future—that is, at the next meeting of the Board.” Mr. Bekkus lowered his voice. “This is confidential of course.”

Swoboda merely said, “I see, sir.”

Bekkus began to be irritated with Swoboda. “I trust, Swoboda,” he said with some severity, “that you are not too dissatisfied?”

After a moment, Swoboda replied, “Yes, Mr. Bekkus.”

Mr. Bekkus, who had been scoring his blotter with a pencil, hesitated. Before he could make up his mind whether the ambiguity of Swoboda’s reply bore investigation, Swoboda himself elucidated.