he　punk。　He　sure　did。　He's　pale　。。。　doesn't　seem　to　walk　so　much　as　go　gliding　around　。。。　he's　always　calling　people　'squirt'　。　。　。　talking　about　squealers　how　much　he　hates　the　squealers　。　。　！〃

I　was　starting　to　shiver　again　in　spite　of　my　best　efforts。　I　just　couldn't　help　it。

〃Blond　hair；〃　I　whispered。　〃Lank　blond　hair。　I　watched　until　the　part　where　he　pushed　this　old　woman　in　a　wheelchair　down　a　flight　of　stairs；　then　I　turned　it　off。〃

〃He　reminded　you　of　Wharton？〃

〃He　was　Wharton；〃　I　said。　〃To　the　life！〃

〃Paul！'　she　began；　and　stopped。　She　looked　at　the　blank　screen　of　the　TV　（the　cable　box　on　top　of　it　was　still　on；　the　red　numerals　still　showing　10；　the　number　of　the　AMC　channel）；　then　back　at　me。

〃What？〃　I　asked。　'What；　Elaine？〃　Thinking；　She's　going　to　tell；　me　I　ought　to　quit　writing　about　it。　That　I　ought　to　tear　up　the　pages　I've　written　so　far　and　just　quit　on　it。

What　she　said　was　〃Don't　let　this　stop　you！〃

I　gawped　at　her。

〃Close　your　mouth；　Paul　…　you'll　catch　a　fly。〃

〃Sorry。　It's　just　that　。。。　well　。　。　。〃

〃You　thought　I　was　going　to　tell　you　just　the　opposite；　didn't　you？〃

〃Yes。　〃

She　took　my　hands　in　hers　（gently；　so　gently　…　her　long　and　beautiful　fingers；　her　bunched　and　ugly　knuckles）　and　leaned　forward；　fixing　my　blue　eyes　with　her　hazel　ones；　the　left　slightly　dimmed　by　the　mist　of　a　coalescing　cataract。　〃I　may　be　too　old　and　brittle　to　live；〃　she　said；　〃but　I'm　not　too　old　to　think。　What's　a　few　sleepless　nights　at　our　age？　What's　seeing　a　ghost　on　the　TV；　for　that　matter？　Are　you　going　to　tell　me　it's　the　only　one　you've　ever　seen？〃

I　thought　about　Warden　Moores；　and　Harry　Terwilliger；　and　Brutus　Howell；　I　thought　about　MY　mother；　and　about　Jan；　my