 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. "Oh, well, 'dead,'" Howell replied. 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. He had known what he sincerely felt to be a genuine affection for Greta. Even after they had let him out of the asylum as cured, he still secretly believed he had known a genuine affection for her. "I don't know, mind you," Howell said, puffing out tobacco smoke, "but I suppose he might have been resurrected." 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. "Look, Frank, you can't legalize a thing like resurrection," Howell said with feigned patience. "There are strong religious convictions to consider. Death is their whole life. Overpopulation. Birth control is a touchy subject. "There are a lot of fakes and quacks in the resurrection business. When the cops find out about a place, they break in, smash all the equipment and arrest everybody in sight. The charges, if any, come under general vice classification." "They didn't talk much about white slavery in Victorian England. I read an article in Time the other day that said 'death' was our dirty word, not sex. You want to shock somebody, you tell him, 'You're going to be dead someday,' not anything sexual.
 he committed murder
 he invested in bad stocks  he committed murder  suffers from delusions and hallucinations  his wife died from cancer