A man presented himself in uniform, a Major, and he introduced himself.  He said, “I’m Major Richardson, and I am in charge of the psychiatric ward here.  I was in charge at Bellevue, previous to my Army service, in New York City.  I have a theory.  It’s an experiment I would like you to agree to, that if you visited my patients, your visit would do some good.  Would you agree?” And I said, “Well, of course, I would.”  He said, “I have to have the post surgeon, the head of the hospital’s, approval first, and I will come back and meet you between wards to let you know if I have received it.” Well, he met me between wards, and he said, “I’ve got the permission.  So, at the end of your day — I’ve read your orders, I know exactly what time and at what ward you will finish.  I will come and get you,” or “I’ll send for you.  You have nothing to worry about.  I will have two very sturdy orderlies to protect you.”  Well, I hadn’t worried before then, but I certainly began at that moment to worry. To protect?