Why, come to realize it, he'd seen less than a dozen other patients during his entire stay here! All of them were male, and all of them--apparently--were recovering from a condition somewhat similar to his own. At least, he'd recognized the same reticence and diffidence when it came to exchanging more than a perfunctory greeting in an encounter in an outer corridor. At the time, he'd accepted their unwillingness to communicate; welcomed and understood it because of _his_ condition. And that in itself wasn't what he questioned now. But why were there so _few_ patients beside himself? Why were they all males? And why weren't _they_ roaming the countryside now the way he was? So many staff-members and so few patients. So much room and luxury and freedom, and so little use of it. So little apparent purpose to it all. _Question: Was there a hidden purpose?_ Harry stared down into the ripples and reflections, and the sun was suddenly intolerably hot, its glare on the water suddenly blinding and bewildering. He saw his face mirrored on the water's surface, and it was not the familiar countenance he knew--the features were bloated, distorted, shimmering and wavering. Maybe it was starting all over again. Maybe he was getting another one of those headaches. Maybe he was going to lose control again. * * * * * Yes, and maybe he was just imagining things. Sitting here in all this heat wasn't a good idea. Why not take a swim? That seemed reasonable enough. In fact, it seemed like a delightful distraction. Harry rose and stripped. He entered the water awkwardly--one didn't dive, not after twenty years of abstinence from the outdoor life--but he found that he could swim, after a fashion. The water was cooling, soothing. A few minutes of immersion and Harry found himself forgetting his speculations. The uneasy feeling had vanished. Now, when he stared down into the water, he saw his own face reflected, looking just the way it should. And when he stared up-- He saw her standing there, on the bank. She was tall, slim, and blonde. Very tall, very slim, and very blonde. She was also very desirable. Up until a moment ago, Harry had considered swimming a delightful distraction. But now-- "How's the water?" she called. "Fine." She nodded, smiling down at him. "Aren't you coming in?" he asked. "No." "Then what are you doing here?" "I was looking for you, Harry." "You know my name?" She nodded again. "Dr. Manschoff told me." "You mean, he sent you here to find me?" "That's right." "But I don't understand. If you're not going swimming, then why--I mean--" Her smile broadened. "It's just part of the therapy, Harry." "Part of the therapy?" "That's right. _Part._" She giggled. "Don't you think you'd like to come out of the water now and see what the rest of it might be?" Harry thought so. * * * * *