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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Games," said the college. "Only games. Don't go adventuring down into life." Then I found Joe Kramer. He had "queered" himself at the beginning in college. I had barely known him. He belonged to no fraternity, and except on the athletic field he kept out of all our genial life.
B.j. to the end, are you?" "No, sir; only anxious to atone for my b.j.-ety," replied Cadet Prescott, with a little flash of his eyes. Anstey had gone below with Devine, to render any help that could be given. "This is rather unusual, mister," suggested Mr. Edwards, glancing at his watch. "However, if you really feel fit, and if it suits Mr. Kramer "
I tried to show some of the officers, but I'm afraid they weren't being too rational just then. "I went into the locker and examined those bodies; if Kramer had looked closely, he would have seen what I did. These were no tame animals. They were civilized men." "How could you be sure, Admiral? They had no clothing, no identifying marks, nothing. Why didn't you believe they were cattle?"
She had learned through her almost constant listening that Lieutenant Kramer was a regular visitor, coming to the Hoff apartment or seeing Frederic Hoff somewhere every other day. Unfortunately he was always conducted into one of the inner rooms, so that no more of the conversation than the ordinary greetings and farewells ever reached Jane's ears.
You just want to talk about home; you haven't got the guts to do anything about it." The moving mass halted, milled. Someone shouted, "Who's he think he is, anyway." Kramer whirled toward me. "He thinks he's the man who's going to let you all rot alive, to save his record." "Williams, Nagle," I said loudly, "clear this passage." Williams started half-heartedly to shove at the men nearest him.
The temptation to stop for a few minutes in Tafelberg for a visit with his old friend Herr Kramer was strong, but fear that he might be recognized by others, who would not guard his secret so well as the shopkeeper of Tafelberg would, decided him to keep on his way.
Hoff already. I've just had luncheon with him." "That's fine," he cried enthusiastically. "A lucky day it was I ran across you." "When you 'phoned me he was there in our apartment, he and a navy lieutenant, Mr. Kramer."
As the two passed him on their way to the room in which the patient lay, the servant eyed Herr Kramer in surprise, as though wondering what had occurred to his mentality since he had seen him the previous day.
Were not these three leaders responsible for the death of that innocent black man? And should leaders such as these be allowed to go on preaching murder? Put them in jail! Quell this insurrection while still there was time! So spoke the press. The rumor quickly spread about that Marsh and the Spaniard and Joe Kramer were to be arrested that day.
In the desk lay a manuscript translation of Hauptmann's Michael Kramer, the stage directions of which were written in purple ink, and a little sheaf of papers held together by a brass pin. In these sheets a sentence was inscribed from time to time and, in an ironical moment, the headline of an advertisement for Bile Beans had been pasted on to the first sheet.
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