They entered the Great Hall. Jacky liked the famous murals showing scenes of American life, but she looked askance at the aluminum statue Spirit of Justice, which depicted a woman showing one breast. “I’m not a prude, but I don’t see why Justice has to have her bosom uncovered,” she said. “What’s the reason for that?”

George considered. “To show that Justice has nothing to hide?”

She laughed. “Nice try.”

They went up in the elevator. “How is your arm?” Jacky asked.

The plaster was off, and George no longer needed a sling. “It still hurts,” he said. “I find it helps to keep my left hand in my pocket. Gives the arm a little support.”

They got off at the fifth floor. George took Jacky to the room he shared with Dennis Wilson and several others. The attorney general’s office was next door.

Dennis was at his desk near the door. He was a pale man whose blond hair was receding prematurely. George said to him: “When’s he coming back?”

Dennis knew he meant Bobby. “Not for an hour, at least.”

George said to his mother: “Come and see Bobby Kennedy’s office.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“He’s not there. He wouldn’t mind.”

George led Jacky through an anteroom, nodding to two secretaries, and into the attorney general’s office. It looked more like the drawing room of a large country house, with walnut paneling, a massive stone fireplace, patterned carpet and curtains, and lamps on occasional tables. It was a huge room, but Bobby had managed to make it look cluttered. The furnishings included an aquarium and a stuffed tiger. His enormous desk was a litter of papers, ashtrays, and family photographs. On a shelf behind the desk chair were four telephones.

Jacky said: “Remember that place by Union Station where we lived when you were a little boy?”

“Of course I do.”

“You could fit the whole house in here.”

George looked around. “You could, I guess.”

“And that desk is bigger than the bed where you and I used to sleep until you were four.”

“Both of us and the dog, too.”

On the desk was a green beret, headgear of the U.S. Army Special Forces that Bobby admired so much. But Jacky was more interested in the photographs. George picked up a framed picture of Bobby and Ethel sitting on a lawn in front of a big house, surrounded by their seven children. “This is taken outside Hickory Hill, their home in McLean, Virginia.” He handed it to her.

“I like that,” she said, studying the photo. “He cares for his family.”

A confident voice with a Boston accent said: “Who cares for his family?”

George spun round to see Bobby Kennedy walking into the room. He wore a crumpled light-gray summer suit. His tie was loose and his shirt collar unbuttoned. He was not as handsome as his older brother, mainly because of his large rabbity front teeth.

George was flustered. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I thought you were out for the afternoon.”