hands　over　his　belly；　head　throbbing　like　a　monstrous　bladder。

The　moving　wasp；　having　stung　moves　on　。。。

It　had　passed　a　little　when　Wendy　came　upstairs　and　asked　him　who　had　been　on

the　phone。

〃Al；〃　he　said。　〃He　called　to　ask　how　things　were　going。　I　said　they　were

fine。〃

〃Jack；　you　look　terrible。　Are　you　sick？〃

〃Headache's　back。　I'm　going　to　bed　early。　No　sense　trying　to　write。〃

〃Can　I　get　you　some　warm　milk？〃

He　smiled　wanly。　〃That　would　be　nice。〃

And　now　he　lay　beside　her；　feeling　her　warm　and　sleeping　thigh　against　his

own。　Thinking　of　the　conversation　with　Al；　how　he　had　groveled；　still　made　him

hot　and　cold　by　turns。　Someday　there　would　be　a　reckoning。　Someday　there　would

be　a　book；　not　the　soft　and　thoughtful　thing　he　had　first　considered；　but　a　gem…

hard　work　of　research；　photo　section　and　all；　and　he　would　pull　apart　the　entire

Overlook　history；　nasty；　incestuous　ownership　deals　and　all。　He　would　spread　it

all　out　for　the　reader　like　a　dissected　crayfish。　And　if　Al　Shockley　had

connections　with　the　Derwent　empire；　then　God　help　him。

Strung　up　like　piano　wire；　he　lay　staring　into　the　dark；　knowing　it　might　be

hours　yet　before　he　could　sleep。

*　*　*

Wendy　Torrance　lay　on　her　back；　eyes　closed；　listening　to　the　sound　of　her

husband's　slumber　—　the　long　inhale；　the　brief　hold；　the　slightly　guttural

exhale。　Where　did　he　go　when　he　slept；　she　wondered。　To　some　amusement　park；　a

Great　Barrington　of　dreams　where　all　the　rides　were　free　and　there　was　no　wife…

mother　along　to　tell　them　they'd　had　enough　hotdogs　or　that　they'd　better　be

going　if　they　wanted　to　get　home　by　dark？　Or　was　it