"Or until science finds a way to help them." "Oh," she smiled, explaining to me carefully, "I'm afraid these are beyond help."
"No one is beyond help." She peered at me, uncertainly now.
"Yes, yes, of course, you're right. We must have hope." I made her nervous.
I smiled to myself at the thought of how it would be if they brought me back here as one of her children.
Would I be tidy or not? Back at Winslow's office, we had coffee as he talked about his work.
"It's a good place," he said. "We have no psychiatrists on our staff—only an outside consulting man who comes in once every two weeks.
But it's just as well. Every one of the psych staff is dedicated to his work.
I could have hired a psychiatrist, but at the price I'd have to pay
I'm able to hire two psychologists—men who aren't afraid to give away a part of themselves to these people."
"What do you mean by 'a part of themselves'?" He studied me for a moment, and then through the tiredness flashed an anger.
"There are a lot of people who will give money or materials, but very few who will give time and affection.
That's what I mean." His voice grew harsh, and he pointed to an empty baby bottle on the bookshelf across the room.
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