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She
turned
and
fled
toward
the
office
.
He
looked
at
his
debate
class
then
,
looked
them
right
in
the
eye
because
he
was
in
charge
again
,
fully
himself
,
and
when
he
was
himself
there
wasn
’
t
a
nicer
guy
in
the
whole
state
of
Vermont
.
Surely
they
knew
that
.
"
You
can
go
home
now
,
"
he
told
them
quietly
.
"
We
’
ll
meet
again
tomorrow
.
"
But
by
the
end
of
that
week
six
of
his
debaters
had
dropped
out
,
two
of
them
the
class
of
the
act
,
but
of
course
it
didn
’
t
matter
much
because
he
had
been
informed
by
then
that
he
would
be
dropping
out
himself
.
Yet
somehow
he
had
stayed
off
the
bottle
,
and
he
supposed
that
was
something
.
And
he
had
not
hated
George
Hatfield
.
He
was
sure
of
that
.
He
had
not
acted
but
had
been
acted
upon
.
You
hate
me
because
you
know
…
But
he
had
known
nothing
.
Nothing
.
He
would
swear
that
before
the
Throne
of
Almighty
God
,
just
as
he
would
swear
that
he
had
set
the
timer
ahead
no
more
than
a
minute
.
And
not
out
of
hate
but
out
of
pity
.
Two
wasps
were
crawling
sluggishly
about
on
the
roof
beside
the
hole
in
the
flashing
.
He
watched
them
until
they
spread
their
aerodynamically
unsound
but
strangely
efficient
wings
and
lumbered
off
into
the
October
sunshine
,
perchance
to
sting
someone
else
.
God
had
seen
fit
to
give
them
stingers
and
lack
supposed
they
had
to
use
them
on
somebody
How
long
had
he
been
sitting
there
,
looking
at
that
hole
with
its
unpleasant
surprise
down
inside
,
raking
over
old
coals
?
He
looked
at
his
watch
.
Almost
half
an
hour
.
