"No, I'm afraid not," said Jimmy. "I met him at Mory's last night, and I can tell you he's bright and popular. I can't find anyone who doesn't like him."

"Have we got anything going for us?"

"Yes, he admitted that he's not looking forward to the debate. He'd rather support another candidate, if the right one came forward. Sees himself as more of a campaign organizer than a leader."

"Then perhaps we could ask Tom to join our team,"

said Fletcher. "I'm still looking for a campaign organizer."

"Funnily enough, he offered me that job," said Jimmy.

Fletcher stared at his friend. "Did he really?"

"Yes," replied Jimmy.

"Then I'll have to take him seriously, won'tI?" Fletcher paused, "Perhaps we should start by going over my speech tonight, then you can tell me if.."

"Not possible tonight," said Jimmy. "Joanna's invited me over to her place for supper."

"Ah yes, that reminds me, I can't make it either. Jackie Kennedy has asked me to accompany her to the Met."

"Now you mention it, Joanna did wonder if you and Annie would like to join us for a drink next Thursday. I told her that my sister was coming over to New Haven for the debate."

"Are you serious?" said Fletcher.

"And if you do decide to join us, please tell Annie not to hang around for too long, because Joanna and I like to be tucked up in bed by ten."

When Nat found Rebecca's hand-written note slipped under his door, he ran all the way across campus, wondering what could possibly be that urgent.

When he walked into her room she turned away as he tried to kiss her, and without explanation locked the door. Nat sat by the window, while Rebecca perched herself on the edge of the bed. "Nat, I have to tell you something that I've been avoiding for the past few days." Nat just nodded, as he could see that Rebecca was finding it difficult to get the words out.

There followed what seemed to him to be an interminable silence.

"Nat, I know you'll hate me for this ..."

"I'm incapable of hating you," said Nat, now looking directly at her.

She met his gaze but then lowered her head. "I'm not sure you're the father."

Nat gripped the sides of his chair. "How's that possible?" he eventually asked.

"That weekend you went over to Penn for the cross-country meet, I ended up at a party and I'm afraid I drank a little too much." She paused again. "Ralph Elliot joined us and I don't remember a great deal after that, except waking up in the morning, and finding him sleeping next to me."

It was Nat's turn not to speak for some time. "Have you told him that you're pregnant?""No," said Rebecca. "What's the point?

He's hardly spoken to me since."

"I'll kill the bastard," said Nat, rising from his chair.

"I don't think that will help," said Rebecca quietly.

"It doesn't change anything," said Nat, walking across to take her in his arms, "because I still want to marry you. In any case, the odds are far more likely that it's my child."

"But you could never be sure," said Rebecca.

"That's not a problem for me," said Nat.

"But it's a problem for me," said Rebecca, "because there's something else I haven't told you ..."

The moment Fletcher entered the packed Woolsey Hall he regretted not heeding Jimmy's advice. He took his place on the bench opposite Tom Russell, who greeted him with a warm smile, as a thousand students began to chant, "Hey, hey LBJ, how many kids have you killed today?"

Fletcher looked up at his opponent as he rose from his place to open the debate. Tom was welcomed by the assembled throng with acclamation even before he'd opened his mouth. To Fletcher's surprise he appeared to be just as nervous as he was, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

The crowd fell silent the moment Tom began to speak, but he had only delivered two words when it turned to boos. "Lyndon Johnson," he waited. "Lyndon Johnson has told us that it is America's duty to defeat the North Vietnamese and save the world from creeping communism. I say it's the president's duty not to sacrifice one American life on the altar of a doctrine that, given time, will defeat itself."

Once again the throng erupted, this time into cheers, and it was nearly a minute before Tom could continue. In fact the remainder of his words were punctuated with so many interruptions of approval, that he'd barely delivered half his speech before he came to the end ofhis allotted time.

The cheers turned to boos the moment Fletcher rose from his place. He had already decided that this was the last public speech he would ever make.

He waited for a silence that never came, and when someone shouted, "Get on with it," he delivered his first faltering words.

"The Greeks, the Romans and the British have all, in their time, taken on the mantle of world leadership," Fletcher began.

"That's no reason why we should!" hollered someone from the back of the hall.

"And after the breakup of the British Empire following the Second World War," continued Fletcher, "that responsibility has been passed on to the United States. The greatest nation on the earth." A smattering of applause broke out in the hall. "We can of course sit back and admit that we are unworthy of that responsibility, or we can offer leadership to millions around the world, who admire our concept of freedom and wish to emulate our way of life. We could also walk away, allowing those same millions to suffer the yoke of communism as it engulfs the free world, or we could support them as they too try to embrace democracy. Only history will be left to record the decision we make, and history must not find us wanting."

Jimmy was amazed that they had thus far listened with only the occasional interruption, and surprised by the respectful applause Fletcher received when he resumed his place some twenty minutes later. At the end of the debate everyone in the hall recognized that Fletcher had won the argument, even if it was Tom who won the motion by over two hundred votes.

Jimmy somehow managed to look cheerful after the result had been read out to the cheering mob. "It's nothing less than a miracle," said Jimmy.

"Some miracle," said Fletcher. "Didn't you notice that we lost by two hundred and twenty-eight votes?"

"But I was expecting to be beaten by a landslide, so I consider two hundred and twenty-eight to benothing less than a miracle. We've got five days to change the minds of a hundred and fourteen voters, because most frosh accept that you're the obvious choice to represent them on the student council,"

said Jimmy as they walked out of Woolsey Hall, with several people whispering to Fletcher, "Well done"

and "Good luck."

"I thought Tom Russell spoke well," said Fletcher, "and more important, he represents their views."

"No, he won't do anymore than keep the seat warm for you."

"Don't be too sure of that," said Fletcher.

"Tom might quite like the idea of becoming president."

"Not a chance with what I have planned for him."

"Dare I ask what you have in mind?" said Fletcher.

"I had a member of our team present whenever he gave a speech. During the campaign he made forty-three pledges, most of which he will not be able to keep. After he's been reminded of that fact twenty times a day, I don't think his name will be appearing on the ballot paper for president."

"Timmy have you ever read Machiavelli's The Prince?"

asked Fletcher.

"No, should I?"

"No don't bother, he has nothing to teach you.

What are you doing for dinner tonight?" he added, as Annie came across to join them. She gave Fletcher a big hug. "Well done," she said, "your speech was brilliant."

"Too bad a couple of hundred others didn't agree with you," said Fletcher.

"They did, but most of them had decided how they were going to vote long before they entered the hall."

"That's exactly what I've been trying to tell him." Jimmy turned to Fletcher. "My kid sister's right, and what's more. ."

"Timmy, I'll be eighteen in a few weeks'

time," said Annie, scowling at her brother, "just in case you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed, and some of my friends even tellme that you're passably pretty, but I can't see it myself."

Fletcher laughed. "So are you going to join us at Dino's?"

"No, you've obviously forgotten that Joanna and I invited you both to dinner at her place."

"I hadn't forgotten," said Annie, "and I can't wait to meet the woman who's tied my brother down for more than a week."

"I haven't looked at another woman since the day I met her," said Jimmy quietly.

"But I still want to marry you," said Nat, holding on to her.

"Even if you can't be sure who the father is?"

"That's all the more reason for us to get married, then you'll never doubt my commitment."

"I've never doubted it for a moment," said Rebecca, "or that you're a good and decent man, but haven't you considered the possibility that I might not love you enough to want to spend the rest of my life with you?" Nat let go of her and looked into her eyes.

"I asked Ralph what he would do if it turned out to be his child, and he agreed with me that I should have an abortion." Rebecca placed the palm of her hand on Nat's cheek. "Not many of us are good enough to live with Sebastian, and I'm certainly no Olivia."

She took her hand away and quickly left the room without another word.

Nat lay on her bed unaware of the darkness setting in. He couldn't stop thinking about his love for Rebecca, and of his loathing for Elliot. He eventually fell asleep, and woke only when the telephone rang.

Nat listened to the familiar voice and congratulated his old friend when he heard the news.

when Nat went to pick up his mail from the student union, he was pleased to find he had three letters: a bumper crop. One of them bore the unmistakable hand of his mother. The second was postmarked New Haven, so he assumed it had to be from Tom. The third was a plain brown envelope containing his monthly scholarship check, which he would bank immediately as his funds were running low.He walked across to McConaughy and grabbed a bowl of corn flakes and a couple of slices of toast, avoiding the powdered scrambled eggs. He took a vacant seat in the far corner of the room, and tore open his mother's letter. He felt guilty that he hadn't written to her for at least two weeks. There were only a few days to go before the Christmas vacation, so he hoped she would understand if he didn't reply immediately. He'd had a long conversation with her on the phone the day after he had broken up with Rebecca.

He hadn't mentioned her being pregnant or given a particular reason for them breaking up.

My dear Nathaniel comshe never called him Nat. If anyone ever read a letter from his mother, Nat reckoned that they would quickly learn everything they needed to know about her. Neat, accurate, informative, caring but somehow leaving an impression of being late for her next appointment.

She always ended with the words, Must dash, love Mother.

The only piece of real news she had to impart was Dad's promotion to regional manager, which meant he would no longer have to spend endless hours on the road, but in future would be working in Hartford.

Dad is delighted about the promotion and the pay rise, which means we can just about afford a second car.

However, he's already missing the personal contact with the customers.

Nat took another spoonful of cereal before he opened the letter from New Haven. Tom's missive was typed and contained the occasional spelling mistake, probably caused by the excitement of describing his election victory. In his usual disarming way, Tom reported that he had won only because his opponent had made a passionate speech defending America's involvement in the Vietnam War, which hadn't helped his cause when it came to the ballot.

Nat liked the sound of Fletcher Davenport, and realized that he might well have run up against him had he gone to Yale. He bit into his toast as he continued to read Tom's letter: I was sorry to hear about your breakup with Rebecca. Isit irreconcilable?

Nat looked up from the letter not sure of the answer to that question, although he realized his old friend wouldn't be at all surprised once he discovered Ralph Elliot was involved.

Nat buttered a second piece of toast and for a moment considered whether a reconciliation was still possible, but quickly returned to the real world.

After all, he still planned to go on to Yale just as soon as he'd completed his first year.

Finally Nat turned his attention to the brown envelope and decided he would drop his monthly check off at the bank before his first lecture-unlike some of his fellow students, he couldn't afford banking his meager funds until the last moment. He slit open the envelope, and was surprised to find that there was no check enclosed, just a letter. He unfolded the single sheet of paper, and stared at the contents in disbelief.

Nat placed the letter on the table in front of him, and considered its consequences. He accepted that the draft was a lottery, and his number had come up. Was it morally right to apply for an exemption simply because he was a student, or should he, as his old man had done in 1942, sign up and serve his country? His father had spent two years in Europe with the Eightieth Division before SELECTIVE SERVICE SYSTEM ORDER TO REPORT FOR ARMED FORCES PHYSICAL EXAMINATION t occLocal Board No 21 Nathaniel CartwrightSelective Service System , . 205 Walter Street University of ConnecticutRockville, CT North Eagleville Road Storrs, ConnecticutDecember 14th, 1967 SELECTIVE SERVICE NO. 6 21 48 You are hereby directed to present yourself forArmed Forces Physical Examination to the Local Board named above by reporting at: Routes 195 and 44 (mansfield Corners), Storrs, Connecticut (place of reporting) at 7.58 a. ., on the 5th of January 19 68 (hour of reporting--Pay--Month) (year) (member or clerk at Local Board) returning home with the Purple Heart. Over twenty-five years later he felt just as strongly that America should be playing a role in Vietnam.

Did such sentiments apply only to those uneducated Americans who were given little choice?

Nat immediately phoned home, and was not surprised when his parents had one of their rare disagreements on the subject. His mother was in no doubt that he should complete his degree, and then reconsider his position; the war could be over by then.

Hadn't President Johnson promised as much during the election campaign? His father, on the other hand, felt that though it might have been an unlucky break, it was nothing less than Nat's duty to answer the call. If everyone decided to burn their draft card, a state of anarchy would prevail, was his father's final word on the subject.

He next phoned Tom at Yale to find out if he'd received a draft notice.

"Yes I have," said Tom.

"Did you burn it?" Nat asked.

"No, I didn't go that far, though I know several students who have."

"Does that mean you're going to sign up?"

"No, I don't have your moral fiber, Nat.

I'm going to take the legal route. My father's found a lawyer in Washington who specializes in exemption, and he's pretty confident he can get me deferred, at least until I've graduated."

"What about that guy who ran against you for freshman rep and felt so strongly about America's responsibility to those "who wished to participate in democracy"-what decision has he come to?" asked Nat.