e
they had gotten the wrong idea into their heads."

"Ah! Indeed. Absolutely true. It is precisely that which led me to
formulate my theory in the first place. How else are we to explain that
the Nipe, for all his tremendous technical knowledge, is nonetheless a
member of a society that is still in the ancient ritual-taboo stage of
development?"

"A savage?"

Yoritomo laughed softly. "As to his savagery, I think no one on Earth
would disagree. But they are not the same thing. What I do mean is that
the Nipe is undoubtedly the most superstitious and bigoted being on the
face of this planet."

There was a knock on the door of the steam room.

"Yes?" said Dr. Yoritomo.

The physical therapist stuck his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but the
clam is done. I'll have to give him a rubdown, Doc."

"Perfectly all right," Yoritomo said. "We had almost finished. Think
over what I have said, eh, Bart?"

"Yeah, sure, George," Stanton said abstractedly. Yoritomo left, and
Stanton got up on the rubdown table and lay prone. The therapist, seeing
that his patient was in no mood for conversation, proceeded with the
massage in silence.

Stanton lay on the table, his head pillowed in his arms, while the
therapist rubbed and kneaded his muscles. The pleasant sensation formed
a background for his thoughts. For the first time, Stanton was seeing
the Nipe as an individual--as a person--as a thinking, feeling being.

_We have a great deal in common, you and I_, he thought. _Except that
you're a lot worse off than I am._

* * * * *

_I'm actually feeling sorry for the poor guy_, Stanton thought. _Which,
I suppose, is a hell of a lot better than feeling sorry for myself. The
only real, basic difference between us freaks is that you're more of a
freak than I am. "Molly O'Grady and the Colonel's lady are sisters under
the skin."_

_Where'd that come from? Something I learned in school, no doubt--like
the snarks and the boojums._

_He would answer to_ Hi! _or to any loud cry,
Such as_ Fry me! _or_ Fritter my wig!

_Who was that? The snark? No. The snark had a flavor like that of
will-o'-the-wisp. And I must remember to distinguish those that have
feathers, and bite, from those that have whiskers, and scratch._

Damn _this memory of mine!_

_Or can I even call it mine when I can't even use it?_

_"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I
know in part; but th