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Show 57 "They lost the war," said Smead. That sentence, Sid thought to himself, was the universal plaster with which disgruntled Americans covered up all Japanese problems. In the meantime Smead led them to a room somewhat incongruously furnished with a dining-set, a couple of chairs, and a couch. "We're having the living-room redone," said Ellen, nodding toward a screen that blocked the view. "This does double duty until the othar's finished." She sighed. "Unfortunately it's taking a while. The Labor Office is busy." Louise was saved from answering; in the doorway stood a small figure, bearing a handsome neat smile in an unfathomable countenance. "Pardon, Mrs Smead. Are you ready for the drinks?" "Certainly, Tomo. Just bring the tray." Bowing, Tomo disappeared, and Louise turned to Ellen. "Didn't know he was your houseboy. Thought he belonged to the Colonel." "He does, but Kazuo's sick, and Dinah offered. You know him?" "Ah yes. I know him." Everybody, Louise thought to herself, knew Tomo. There was one like him on every base: the Japanese who ingratiated himself to the Americans in a symbiotic relationship that funneled most of the profits to himself. She had dealt with him during the PTA bazaar, one of the few events that drew women together from both sides of the bay, and Tomo stood out by a mannerism she could characterize |