THERE was a refreshing remoteness about life last week at Milestone Plantation, 35 miles south of Moultrie, Ga.: no newsmen, no demanding photographers, no jangling telephones or weighty conferences. By day the good friends played golf or shot quail; in the evenings they played bridge. If there was any shop talkBerlin, the budget, the missile gapthe talk was initiated by one man, and one man alone; his friends knew better than to broach such subjects of their own accord. And when the brief vacation ended and the friends returned to their homes, not one of them would think of hinting at...
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