 Why did Linton spend time in an asylum?
FEBRUARY STRAWBERRIES By JIM HARMON How much is the impossible worth? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Linton lay down his steel fork beside the massively solid transparency of the restaurant water glass. "The man who isn't Snead is leaving," Linton said, describing the scene over Howell's shoulder. "Snead came to Greta's funeral. A thick-bodied man at the next table leaned his groaning chair back intimately against Linton's own chair. "Couldn't have been him, though," Linton answered automatically. Howell breathed in deeply and sucked back Linton's attention. He's not Sherlock Holmes or the Frankenstein Monster—there's no doubt or semantic leeway to the thing." Linton had thought he had known how death was. He had buried his wife, or rather he had watched the two workmen scoop and shove dirt in on the sawdust-fresh pine box that held the coffin. Even after they had let him out of the asylum as cured, he still secretly believed he had known a genuine affection for her. Linton asked, thinking: God? But by saying something so patently ridiculous, Linton hoped to bring the contradicting truth to the surface immediately. "But it's wonderful," Linton said, thinking his immediate thoughts.
 he committed murder
 he invested in bad stocks  he committed murder  suffers from delusions and hallucinations  his wife died from cancer