Doctors of Philosophy by Muriel Spark

them.
    CATHERINE. I’ll try one, Annie, if you don’t mind.
    ANNIE. You take it with water.
    CHARLIE. Water, Leonora — behind you in the jug.
    CATHERINE. To hell with you, Leonora, for sitting there lecturing us and putting us in the wrong.
    C HARLIE. Attack is a usual form of defence.
    CATHERINE. Charlie hasn’t been sleeping. What pity have you got for Charlie?
    L EONORA. A certain amount. But I’m not sure what kind of pity it is.
    C HARLIE. I don’t want anyone’s pity.
Enter MRS. S . with tea-tray, followed by DAPHNE.
    M RS. S. I been and muddled up all your papers, Leonora. They just fell to bits on the floor and the pages isn’t numbered.
    L EONORA. You shouldn’t meddle with my work, Mrs. S. Which batch have you muddled?
    M RS. S. Your new line of study.
    D APHNE. Leonora, I hope you haven’t started any new work. You need a rest.
    M RS. S. Entitled ‘ “Observations of Human Reactions to Pitiable Objects.” First case history — the economist who, when put to the test of an artificial encounter contrived by the author—’
    L EONORA. My notes are private, Mrs. S.
    CHARLIE. Did you say case history of an economist?
    MRS. S. I did. But I shouldn’t of. Mrs. D., what have you done with the half a cucumber I put away for Daphne?
    CATHERINE. I threw it out. It was dry. D APHNE. It wasn’t dry. I’m pining for cucumber.
    CHARLIE. Did you say case history of an economist, or was it a communist?
    M RS. S. Economist. You think I don’t know the difference?
    D APHNE. It was only dry at the end. What a waste!
    M RS. S. It goes ‘First case history — the economist who, when put to the test of an artificial encounter contrived by the author—’
    CHARLIE. Leonora, what is the title of your thesis?
    M RS. S. I told you the title. ‘Observations of Human Reactions to Pitiable Objects.’ (Goes out.)
    D APHNE. Have you told Leonora what you said you were going to say?
    CATHERINE. No. Leonora has been having all the say.
    D APHNE. I think you’re both very cowardly. Leonora, we want to ask you to consult a psychiatrist and have a course of treatment.
    C HARLIE. Be careful what you say, Daphne.
    CATHERINE. Why should she be careful? Leonora has not been careful what she has said.
    D APHNE. It’s a simple matter of repressed emotions and desires, Leonora. These schizophrenic symptoms like accosting Father with suggestions, well, they might occur again. You might approach some ancient male colleague one dark night. Next time you have an attack—
    CHARLIE. Daphne, I wish you would be quiet.
    D APHNE. Someone’s got to speak. Now that Leonora has found out that she was quite unconsciously making absurd remarks, she must see that something must be done.
    LEONORA. My discovery was very dramatic. I suspected something, of course, but when I heard my own voice on the tape recorder, it was a kind of liberation. It felt like a cure in itself. Sometimes these revelations seem to occur in a dramatic way for curative purposes. I must say, I feel myself to be occupying a very dramatic role now. It’s quite a new sensation.
    ANNIE. I know exactly how you feel, Leonora. I’ve had a dramatic feeling all my life. It’s thrilling.
    D APHNE. Once you start feeling dramatic you might do anything. You might do it at Oxford.
    LEONORA. So might you.
    D APHNE. What do you mean?
    C HARLIE. Daphne, it’s my belief that Leonora is enacting a part simply in order to observe my reactions. The whole thing was contrived.
    CATHERINE. Leonora, if you have done this to your own kith and kin—
    L EONORA. I deny it. It was a humiliating experience for me, and I remain an object of your pity.
    CATHERINE. You don’t appear very humiliated. Quite the opposite. You’ve been laying down the law all afternoon. How can one exercise pity on people who are arrogant?
    ANNIE. Oh, Catherine, Leonora is very humble, she has just admitted that she honestly didn’t know what she was saying when she said ‘Charlie, give me a—’
    CHARLIE Annie,