IT was childish and touching, the letter on the pink note paper, forwarded to him from his office in the consulate. Carlson felt an unexpected pang and looked out for relief from his high hotel room commanding Johore Bahru and the Causeway. Then he turned again to the round writing with the circled periods.

Dear Father:     Washington, D, C.

I am writing to ask if we could meet when you come on home leave again, whenever that is. I think I am old enough and mature enough now to meet my real father. Mother would probably agree to it, though she doesn't need to know if it would embarrass you. It could be arranged with the help of Ibby, that's my girl friend, she lives in New York.