believe　that？〃　I　asked。

He　gave　me　a　bland　look　from　his　too…thin　face。　〃Sometimes　I　do；〃　he　said。

His　wife　leaned　out　of　the　kitchen　window　like　an　engineer　from　the　cab　of　a　lootive　and　called；　〃Kids！　Cookies　are　ready！〃　She　turned　to　me。　〃Would　you　like　an　oatmeal…raisin　cookie；　Mr。　Edgebe？〃

〃I'm　sure　they're　delicious；　ma'am；　but　I'll　take　a　pass　this　time。〃

〃All　right；〃　she　said；　and　drew　her　head　back　inside。

〃Have　you　seen　the　scars　on　him？〃　Hammersmith　asked　abruptly。　He　was　still　watching　his　kids；　selves　to　abandon　the　pleasures　of　the　swing　…　not　even　for　oatmeal…raisin　cookies。

〃Yes。〃　But　I　was　surprised　he　had。

He　saw　my　reaction　and　laughed。　〃The　defense　attorney's　one　big　victory　was　getting　Coffey　to　take　off　his　shirt　and　show　those　scars　to　the　jury。　The　prosecutor；　George　Peterson；　objected　like　hell；　but　the　judge　allowed　it。　Old　George　could　have　saved；　his　breath　…　juries　around　these　parts　don't　buy　all　that　psychology　crap　about　how　people　who've　been　mistreated　just　can't　help　themselves。　They　believe　people　can　help　themselves。　It's　a　point　of　view　I　have　a　lot　of　sympathy　for　…　but　those　scars　were　pretty　ghastly；　just　the　same。　Notice　anything　about　them；　Edgebe？〃

I　had　seen　the　man　naked　in　the　shower；　and　I'd　noticed；　all　right；　I　knew　just　what　he　was　talking　about。　〃They're　all　broken　up。　Latticed；　almost。〃

〃You　know　what　that　means？〃

〃Somebody　whopped　the　living　hell　out　of　him　when　he　was　a　kid；〃　I　said。　〃Before　he　grew。〃

〃But　they　didn't　manage　to　whop　the　devil　out　of　him；　did　they；　Edgebe？　Should　have　spared　the　rod　and　just　drowned　him　in　the　river　like　a　stray　kitten；　don't　you　think？〃

I　suppose　it　would　have　been　politic　to　simply　agree　and　get　out