"How could he prepare such?" wondered Majors.
"Easily. It was done under a psychic block and the patient remembers only the true—his true—facts of how he found it on the street."
"Then you believe that Carroll was not on that corner on the day he first saw Sally get hauled into that black sedan?"
"He may not have been there at all. We all knew Sally's habits and that corner very well. That Carroll returned on the following days is a part of his justification pattern. The whole thing is very logical. And it is too bad. I was hoping that Carroll's interest in Sally was a glimmer of returning interest in life and work."
"The child is half his age," snorted Majors in derision.
"All right. So she's about seventeen. I don't expect any real attraction to develop—I'd feel much the same way about them if Sally happened to have been Tommy, the co-op student. All I want is for Carroll to have an interest in something or somebody. I'd gladly offer my wife up as an item for his interest because I know that no fixations would come of it."
Majors scowled. "I couldn't say the same," he observed.
"That's because you do not know Carroll's underlying personality. I do."
"But you admit he's not the same man."
"He isn't—but his sense of loyalty is not changed. So long as he's that way there's hope for him."