There were always at least three open books on the night table, spines pointed at the ceiling like wounded birds. She read everything all at once. Currently it was a lot about American history. She was applying for another scholarship and getting ready for the next exam—she wanted to start at Columbia next spring at the latest.

At night, in bed, when Lauren was tired and thinking about something, she squinted a little.

He worried about her sometimes. She seemed to him like a lamp that burned both day and night. He asked himself whether the hard work at Manhattan General might get to be too much for her. She claimed everything was fine. Said she had a better understanding of life now that she was seeing the world from the gritty streets of New York and not from the lofty perch of a mountain resort.

But of course, thanks to her family, she always had a safety net beneath her. She could go back home at any time. That was the difference between her and him.

She went regularly to charity events at the big hotels, like the Waldorf Astoria or the Plaza. She gave blood (“Don’t you want to, Joe?” “No, thanks.” “German blood!” “Very funny.”). She went to demonstrations against Hitler’s Germany. There were two factions: intervene or stay out of it.

Lauren spoke out in favor of intervention. He argued, “That’s exactly why the Germans in America are so demonized. It’s a way of mobilizing the population so that soon the US can start sending American troops to Europe.”

“Don’t you realize what’s happening in Europe right now? Germany is invading other countries, plundering and murdering.”

He nodded. Yes, of course he knew that. And it troubled him. But couldn’t what he was saying also be true? “Not all Germans are like that,” he said quietly. “And yet you still see these posters around the city, DON’T BUY FROM GERMANS.”

She grew pensive. “Maybe that’s just how it’s got to be, Joe. Maybe there’s no other way.”

She snored at night. He didn’t know if he should tell her or not. Men were allowed to snore, not women.