escaped　three　years　later　when　Jack　was　twelve　　he　went　to　UNH　on　a　hefty

Merit　Scholarship。　A　year　after　that　their　father　died　of　a　sudden；　massive

stroke　which　occurred　while　he　was　prepping　a　patient　for　surgery。　He　had

collapsed　in　his　flapping　and　untucked　hospital　whites；　dead　possibly　even

before　he　hit　the　industrial　black…and…red　hospital　tiles；　and　three　days　later

the　man　who　had　dominated　Jacky's　life；　the　irrational　white　ghost…god；　was

under　ground。

The　stone　read　Mark　Anthony　Torrance；　Loving　Father。　To　that　Jack　would　have

added　one　line：　He　Knew　How　to　Play　Elevator。

There　had　been　a　great　lot　of　insurance　money。　There　are　people　who　collect

insurance　as　pulsively　as　others　collect　coins　and　stamps；　and　Mark　Torrance

had　been　that　type。　The　insurance　money　came　in　at　the　same　time　the　monthly

policy　payments　and　liquor　bills　stopped。　For　five　years　they　had　been　rich。

Nearly　rich　。。。

In　his　shallow；　uneasy　sleep　his　face　rose　before　him　as　if　in　a　glass；　his

face　but　not　his　face；　the　wide　eyes　and　innocent　bowed　mouth　of　a　boy　sitting

in　the　ball　with　his　trucks；　waiting　for　his　daddy；　waiting　for　the　white　ghost…

god；　waiting　for　the　elevator　to　rise　up　with　dizzying；　exhilarating　speed

through　the　salt…and…sawdust　mist　of　exhaled　taverns；　waiting　perhaps　for　it　to

go　crashing　down；　spilling　old　clocksprings　out　of　his　ears　while　his　daddy

roared　with　laughter；　and　it

（transformed　into　Danny's　face；　so　much　like　his　own　had　been；　his　eyes　had

been　light　blue　while　Danny's　were　cloudy　gray；　but　the　lips　still　made　a　bow

and　the　plexion　was　fair；　Danny　in　his　study；　wearing　training　pants；　al