As night settled on the capital of all the Russias, white shirt fronts gathered in rigid radiance and evening gowns swayed scented attendance: Foreign Minister Molotov was giving a banquet for his fellow peacemakers. The dinner (caviar, pheasant, ice cream) was almost frugal by official Soviet standards, and the toasts were grimly optimistic. Said Ernie Bevin as he proffered his glass: "We four must not let the people of today or tomorrow say there were men who had a chance to save the world and muffed it."

A Plant & a Paradox. The...

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