I once knew a young man, nineteen years of age, who lived with absolute outward (外表的) confidence and self-possession for a number of years before I discovered that he could not read or write. His various methods of trick, which were also skills of self-protection, were so skillful and so desperate (绝望) that neither I nor any of his other adult friends were aware of his entire helplessness in face of written words until we went to dinner one night at a local restaurant—and suddenly discovered that he could not read. Even here, it was not the first time we went out to eat, but something like the second or third, that Peter's desperation shocked me. The first time, he was clever enough to cover the truth. He studied the menu for a moment, then looked up to the waitress and asked her if he could have 'just a coke and a hamburger'. He told me later that he had done the same thing many times before and that he had learned to act as if he were examining the menu:' Then I ask for a coke and a hamburger. . . Sometimes they give me a hamburger on a plate with salad and potatoes. . . Then I ask them for a roll and make my own hamburger. As we began to go out to eat more frequently, Peter would ask to go to Howard Johnson's. I soon discovered the reason for his choice: The photographs, attached in cellophane(玻璃纸) containers to each of the standard items on the menu, could help him not to struggle with the shape of words at all. Howard Johnson's, whether intentionally or not, had provided the perfect escape for the endangered pride of an adult who was illiterate(文盲). When he went to a restaurant, Peter would______.