Manchurian Books

One of the dolls, I privately decided, was like Beatrice.
One other holiday there was when I saw something of her--oddly enough my
memory of that second holiday in which she played a part is vague--and
then came a gap of a year, and then my disgrace.
VIII
Now I sit down to write my story and tell over again things in their
order, I find for the first time how inconsecutive and irrational a
thing the memory can be. One recalls acts and cannot recall motives;
one recalls quite vividly moments that stand out inexplicably--things
adrift, joining on to nothing, leading nowhere. I think I must have seen
Beatrice and her half-brother quite a number of times in my last holiday
at Bladesover, but I really cannot recall more than a little of the
quality of the circumstances. That great crisis of my boyhood stands out
very vividly as an effect, as a sort of cardinal thing for me, but when
I look for details, particularly details that led up to the crisis--I
cannot find them in any developing order at all. This halfbrother,
Archie Garvell, was a new factor in the affair.


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