"They disappear overnight, and no one asks questions she whispered, remembering. "It is not like that," he insisted. "You're putting so many of us in camps that Hitler won't even have to go looking for us when he gets here. Don't you see? You have done his job for him." "Is that what they will think of me?" Oh, this pathetic man! Her tone was contemptuous. "They will think of you much as they did your father, except less kindly. He did less harm." Churchill clutched his chest. Never had he been lashed so cruelly, or hurt so deeply, by a woman. She was pointing at the portrait like a prosecutor in accusation. "Look at your father. He told you to know your enemy. The trouble with you, Mr. Churchill, is you have no idea who your enemy is. You stand there like a spoilt child blaming the rest of the world for your miseries. Half the young men of this country are fighting flame-throwers while you hide here in the dark, fighting ghosts." He gasped as if he had been slapped in the face.
