The nation could not quite believe that UNO was really in danger of blowing up. The land of the airborne custard pie and the quick punch in the nose, of the goon, the stink bomb, the special deputy and the Bronx cheer had never found peace very peaceful. In the midst of their own private postwar fights over wages, rents and nylons, many a U.S. citizen saw nothing out-of-the-way in the United Nations quarrel over Iran.
World politics had never seemed so fully divorced from furtiveness and formality, from striped pants, heel clicking, and shiny tables in big, guarded rooms....
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