This
was a most chilling idea. Shivering beneath the douche, George's mind
ran back along the episode of their meeting to discover arguments that
would build up the chains and the whips.
Memories banked high on either side. In search of his desire George
gathered them haphazard, closely examined each.
It was an unsatisfactory business. Here was a memory. She had said
so-and-so. Yes; but, damn it, that might mean anything. He flung it
down; took another. She had said so-and-so. Yes; but, damn it, that
might have meant nothing.
This was very disturbing. He must systematically go through the whole
pile of memories--upon an ordered plan reconstruct each step of the
episode.
At first attempt it was a wretched business. Never was builder set to
work with bricks so impossible as the bricks of conversation with
which this reconstruction must be done. Each that the girl had
supplied might dovetail in as he would have it go; upon the other hand
it fitted equally well when twisted into the form in which, for all he
knew, she might have constructed it. The bricks George had himself
supplied he found even more disconcerting--they were stupid, ugly,
laughable. He shoved them in, and they grinned at him--mocked him.
None the less he persevered--he must get his answer; he must see both
what she had thought of him and if she were likely still to be
thinking of him.
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