more because I wanted something to hold on to than because I wanted to run away.
I know we can't leave here, but if we had to, being seen on the streets would be just as dangerous as getting caught in an air raid.
After half an hour the drone of engines faded and the house began to hum with activity again.
Peter emerged from his lookout post in the front attic, Dussel remained in the front office, Mrs. van D. felt safest in the private office,
Mr. van Daan had been watching from the loft, and those of us on the landing spread out to watch the columns of smoke rising from the harbor.
Before long the smell of fire was everywhere, and outside it looked as if the city were enveloped in a thick fog.
A big fire like that is not a pleasant sight, but fortunately for us it was all over, and we went back to our various chores.
Just as we were starting dinner: another air-raid alarm. The food was good, but I lost my appetite the moment I heard the siren.
Nothing happened, however, and forty-five minutes later the all clear was sounded.
After the dishes had been washed: another air-raid warning, gunfire and swarms of planes.
“Oh, gosh, twice in one day,” we thought, “that's twice too many.”
Little good that did us, because once again the bombs rained down, this time on the other side of the city.
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