“我很好。问题是:你怎么样?
“你的意思是?我问道。
“一定有什么困扰着你,他说——显得很得意,外国人掌握了一点美国俚语都会这样。“你就是闭着眼睛也能进入决赛。 “相信我,这我知道,我对他说--能跟别人说这话,心里觉得好受些。
[8] For the next few minutes we talked together. I didn't tell Long what was "eating" me, but he seemed to understand my anger, and he took pains to reassure me. Although he'd been schooled in the Nazi youth movement, he didn't believe in the Aryan-supremacy business any more than I did. We laughed over the fact that he really looked the part, though. An inch taller than I, he had a lean, muscular frame, clear blue eyes, blond hair and a strikingly handsome face. Finally, seeing that I had calmed down somewhat, he pointed to the take-off board.
[9] "Look," he said. "Why don't you draw a line a few inches behind the board and aim at making your take-off from there? You'll be sure not to foul, and you certainly ought to jump far enough to qualify. What does it matter if you're not first in the trials? Tomorrow is what counts."
[101 Suddenly all the tension seemed to leave my body as the truth of what he said hit me. Confidently, I drew a line a full foot behind the hoard and proceeded to jump from there. I qualified with almost a foot to spare.
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