ON WV.:I)NI-SDAYS， Thomas Edgecombe put the paper
to bed. Thursday mornings he pretended to relax， sleeping as late
as allowed for a man with two teenage sons at home， one of whom
prepared for school by blasting bass-thumpy， arrhythmic rock
which roused even the decrepit collie from his puddled sleep be-
neath the dining room table. Thursday afternoons， Thomas pre-
tended to play golf. After nine years in Trent， he d splurged on
country club memberships for himself and Strickland， his partner
at the newspaper， telling himself it would be good for business，
they d sell more advertising， even though he d written an editorial
criticizing the club s racist membership policies and lived in tear
that Sidney Showenstein， owner of Trent s only deparm~ent store
and one of his most loyal advcrtisers， would discover that he was a
member of a club that as late as 1974--last year-- excludedJews.
On the golf course he tried to enjoy himself， but usually found
the weight of the next week s work too heavily with him. But
sometimes in fall， when the light was generous and brilliant and re-
tlected off tbe wide plate glass windows of the doctors houses lin-
ing the fairways， Thomas managed moments of ease. Thomas
liked golf courses， admired their artificial and manicured clarity，
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