"Joanna Palmer."

"So you're obviously not a freshman, Joanna," said Jimmy.

"No, I'm not."

"Then you're the ideal person to help and succor me."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Miss Palmer, as they climbed the steps to Sudler Hall.

"Why don't you invite me to supper this evening, and then you can tell me everything I should know about Yale,"ventured Jimmy just as they came to a halt outside the lecture hall. "Hey," he said, turning to Fletcher, "isn't this where we're meant to be?"

"Yes, it is, and I did try to warn you."

"Warn me? About what?" asked Jimmy, as he opened the door for Miss Palmer and followed her into the room hoping he could sit next to her. The undergraduates immediately stopped talking, which took Jimmy by surprise.

"I apologize for my friend, Miss Palmer,"

whispered Fletcher, "but I can assure you he has a heart of gold."

"And the balls to go with it, it would seem," Joanna replied. "By the way, never let him know, but I was extremely flattered that he thought I might be a freshman."

Joanna Palmer placed her books on the long desk and turned to face the packed lecture theater.

"The French Revolution is the turning point of modern European history," she began to a rapt audience. "Although America had already removed a monarch," she paused, "without having to remove his head ..." Her eyes swept the tiered benches as her pupils laughed, before coming to rest on Jimmy Gates. He winked.

They held hands as they walked across the campus to their first lecture. They had become friends during the rehearsals of the play, inseparable in the week of the performance, and had both lost their virginity together during spring vacation. When Nat told his lover that he would not be going to Yale, but joining her at the University of Connecticut, Rebecca felt guilty about how happy the news made her.

Susan and Michael Cartwright liked Rebecca the moment they met her, and their disappointment over Nat not being offered an immediate place at Yale was softened by seeing their son so relaxed for the first time in his life.

The opening lecture in Buckley Hall was on the subject of American literature, and delivered by Professor Hayman. During the summer vacation, Nat and Rebecca had read all the authors on the assigned list-James,Steinbeck, Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Bellow-and then discussed in detail Washington Square, The Grapes of Wrath, For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Great Gatsby, and Herzog.

So by the time they took their places in the lecture theater that Tuesday morning, they both felt confident they were well prepared. Within moments of Professor Hayman delivering his opening salvo, they both realized that they had done little more than read the texts.

They had not considered the 81 different influences on the authors that birth, upbringing, education, religion and mere circumstance had brought to their work, nor given any thought to the fact that the gift of storytelling was not bestowed on any particular class, color or creed.

"Take, for example, Scott Fitzgerald," continued the professor, in his short story, "Bernice Bobs Her Hair.""

Nat looked up from his notes and saw the back of his head. He felt sick. He stopped listening to Professor Hayman's views on Fitzgerald and continued to stare for some time before the student turned and began talking to his neighbor.

Nat's worst fears were confirmed. Ralph Elliot was not only at the same university, but taking the same course. Almost as if conscious of being stared at, Elliot suddenly turned around. He didn't acknowledge Nat, as his attention settled on Rebecca. Nat glanced across at her, but she was too busy taking notes on Fitzgerald's drinking problems during his time in Hollywood to register Elliot's unsubtle interest.

Nat waited until Elliot had left the lecture theater before he collected his books and rose from his place.

"Who was that who kept turning around and staring at you?" asked Rebecca, as they strolled over to the dining hall.

"His name's Ralph Elliot," said Nat.

"We were both at Tail, and I think he was staringat you, not me."

"He's very good looking," said Rebecca with a grin.

"He reminds me a little of Jay Gatsby. Is he the one Mr. Thompson thought would make a good Malvolio?"

"A natural, I think were Thomo's exact words."

Over lunch, Rebecca pressed Nat to tell her more about Elliot, but he said that there wasn't that much to tell, and continually tried to change the subject. If enjoying Rebecca's company also meant having to be at the same university as Ralph Elliot, it was something he'd learn to live with.

Elliot didn't attend the afternoon lecture on the Spanish influence over the colonies, and by the time Nat accompanied Rebecca back to her room that evening, he had almost forgotten the unwelcome presence of his old rival.

The women's dorms were on south campus, and Nat's freshman advisor had warned him that it was against the regulations for men to be found in residence after dark.

"Whoever fixed the regulations," said Nat, as he lay next to Rebecca on her single bed, "must have thought that students could only make love in the dark." Rebecca laughed as she pulled her sweater back on.

"Which means that during the spring semester you won't have to go back to your room until after nine o'clock,"

she said.

"Perhaps the regulations will allow me to stay with you after the spring semester," said Nat without explanation.

During his first term, Nat was relieved to discover that he rarely came into contact with Ralph Elliot. His rival showed no interest in cross-country running, acting or music, so it came as a surprise when Nat found him chatting to Rebecca outside the chapel on the last Sunday of the term. Elliot quickly walked away the momenthe saw Nat approaching them.

"What did he want?" asked Nat defensively.

"Just going over his ideas to improve the student council. He's running as the freshman representative, and wanted to know if you were thinking of putting your name forward."

"No, I'm not," said Nat firmly. "I've had enough of elections."

"I think that's a pity," said Rebecca, squeezing Nat's hand, "because I know a lot of our class hope you will run."

"Not while he's in the field," said Nat.

"Why do you hate him so much?" asked Rebecca.

"Is it just because he beat you in that silly school election?" Nat stared across at Elliot and watched him chatting to a group of students- the same insincere smile, and no doubt the same glib promises.

"Don't you think it's possible that he might have changed?" said Rebecca.

Nat didn't bother to reply.

"Right," said Jimmy, "the first election you can run for is as freshman representative on the Yale college council."

"I thought I'd skip elections during my first year," said Fletcher, "and just concentrate on work."

"You can't risk it," declared Jimmy-"And why not?" asked Fletcher.

"Because it's a statistical fact that whoever gets elected to the college council in his first year, is almost certain to end up as president three years later."

"Perhaps I don't want to be president of the college council,"

said Fletcher with a grin.

"Perhaps Marilyn Monroe didn't want to win an Oscar," said Jimmy, as he produced a booklet from his briefcase.

"What's that?"

"The freshman yearbook-there's 1,021 of them."

"I see you've once again begun the campaign without consulting the candidate."

"I had to, because I can't afford to hang around waiting for you to make up your mind. I've done someresearch and discovered that you have little or no chance of even being considered for the college council unless you speak in the freshman's debate in the sixth week."

"Why's that?" asked Fletcher.

"Because it's the only occasion when all the frosh come together in one room and are given the chance to listen to any prospective candidate."

"So how do you get selected as a speaker?

"Depends which side of the motion you want to support."

"So what's the motion?"

"I'm glad to see you're finally warming to the challenge, because that's our next problem." Jimmy removed a leaflet from an inside pocket.

"Resolved: America should withdraw from the Vietnam War."

"I don't see any problem with that," said Fletcher, "I'd be quite happy to oppose such a motion."

"That's the problem," said Jimmy, "because anyone who opposes is history, even if they look like Kennedy and speak like Churchill."

"But if I present a good case, they might feel I was the right person to represent them on the council.

"However persuasive you are, Fletcher, it would still be suicide, because almost everyone on campus is against the war. So why not leave that to some madman who never wanted to be elected in the first place?"

"That sounds like me," said Fletcher, "and in any case, perhaps I believe ..."

"I don't care what you believe," interrupted Jimmy. "My only interest is getting you elected."

"Jimmy, do you have any morals at all?"

"How could I?" Jimmy replied. "My father's a politician and my mother sells real estate."

"Despite your pragmatism, I still couldn't get myself to speak in favor of such a motion."

"Then you're doomed to a life of endless study and holding hands with my sister.""Sounds pretty good to me," said Fletcher, "especially as you seem quite incapable of having a serious relationship with any woman for more than twenty-four hours."

"That isn't Joanna Palmer's opinion," said Jimmy.

Fletcher laughed, "And what about your other friend, Audrey Hepburn? I haven't seen her on campus lately."

"Neither have I," said Jimmy, "but it will only be a matter of time before I capture Miss Palmer's heart."

"In your dreams, Jimmy."

"You will in time, apologize, O ye of little faith, and I predict that it will be before your disastrous contribution to the freshman debate."

"You won't change my mind, Jimmy, because if I take part in the debate, it will be to oppose the motion."

"You do like to make life difficult for me, don't you, Fletcher. Well, one thing's for certain, the organizers will welcome your participation."

"Why's that?" asked Fletcher.

"Because they haven't been able to find anyone half electable who is willing to put the case against withdrawal."

"Are you sure," asked Nat quietly.

"Yes, I am," replied Rebecca.

"Then we must get married as soon as possible,"

said Nat. "Why?" asked Rebecca. "We live in the sixties, the age of the Beatles, pot, and free love, so why shouldn't I have an abortion?"

"Is that what you want?" asked Nat in disbelief "I don't know what I want," said Rebecca.

"I only found out this morning. I need some more time to think about it."

Nat took her hand. "I'd marry you today if you'd have me." "I know you would," said Rebecca, squeezing his hand, "but we have to face the fact that this decision will affect the rest of our lives. We shouldn't rush into it.""But I have a moral responsibility to you and our child." "And I have my future to consider," said Rebecca. "Perhaps we should tell our parents, and see how they react?" "That's the last thing I want to do," said Rebecca. "Your mother will expect us to get married this afternoon, and my father will turn up on campus with a shotgun under his arm. No, I want you to promise you won't mention that I'm pregnant to anyone, especially our parents."

"But why?" pressed Nat.

"Because here's another problem. ."

"How's the speech coming on?"

"Just finished the third draft," said Fletcher cheerfully, "and you'll be happy to learn that it's likely to make me the most unpopular student on campus."

"You do like making my task more difficult.."

"Impossible is my ultimate aim,"

admitted Fletcher. "By the way, who are we up against?"

"Some guy called Tom Russell."

"What have you found out about him?"

"Went to Tail."

"Which means that we have a head start," said Fletcher with a grin.