"Yeah. I guess he's got a right to be."
"He said he's going to fight against your defense pro- grams once he's Minority Leader."
Kinsman looked at her. "That's his way of salving his conscience, Diane. Behind all the rhetoric, he's going to let us go ahead and do what needs to be done. He's got the White House on his mind now."
"You took advantage of him. And me."
"That's right. And of Mary-Ellen, and the Aerospace Force, the Pentagon, the White House—the whole human race."
She did not answer him.
Their talk through dinner was trivial at first, impersonal, almost like strangers who had nothing in common. Avoid arguments during mealtime, Chester, Kinsman could hear his mother telling him. If you can't say something pleasant, then say nothing at all.
But finally he had to ask, "How'd the tests come out?"
"The tests?" Diane seemed genuinely puzzled, then she realized what he meant. With a plaintive little smile she said, "Oh, I'm pregnant, all right. It's going to be a girl."
"You're going to have it?"
She nodded.
"And Neal?" Kinsman asked.
"I don't know." Diane's smile turned slightly sadder. "He doesn't know what he wants—now."
It was still hot and bright outside when they left the restaurant, but the downtown Washington streets were al- ready emptying. The tourists were hurrying for their air- conditioned hotels and restaurants, exhausted and sweaty after a day of tramping around the city. They wanted to cool off and relax before the electrical power was shut down for the night.
"Hey, I've got an idea," Kinsman said. "Come on."
He nagged down a dilapidated taxi and helped Diane into it. She looked puzzled. "Washington Monument," he told the driver.
The line of tourists that usually circled the monument 266 was gone by the time they arrived there.
"Is it still open?" Diane asked.
"Sure. I've never been up the top. Have you?"
"No."
