LOUKAS DROVE EASILY without thinking about it， eyes<br >automatically registering the road ahead. On Watson<br >Place， four potholes that seemed to have become a per-<br >manent fixture caused him to move the faded blue<br >Valiant into the oncoming lane. He swung into Judge s<br >Lane and climbed the hill rapidly past shedding maples<br >and oaks， and a variety of evergreens， fenced on either<br >side by dry stone walls hand made by some early Con-<br >necticut farmers.<br > Driving came easy for Loukas. But not much else. It<br >had become increasing difficult to sleep， and to get out<br >of bed in the morning. Once life had been something to<br >explore and revel in， a glittering package full of sur-<br >prises and promise. No more.<br > There had been no dramatic moment of change. Just<br >a gradual erosion of motive and commitment， of satis-<br >faction and reward. A bitter fact， e~k~ablished even before<br >it was recognized. A twinge brought Loukas hand to his<br >middle. Ulcer symptoms， Dr. Dubin had warned. Stop<br >worrying.<br > Let it all hang out， Dubin had suggested.<br > Why not? It had become that kind of a world. Public<br >confession rivaled baseball as the national pastime. On<br >television， in the newspapers， in magazines， in books.<br >People took spiritual nourishment from the guilty revela-<br >tions of their betters--or at least those who dared to give<br >up their most private acts for public entertainment and<br >enlightenment.<br ><br ><br >