don’t. Please don’t repeat those words.
ANNIE ‘… child. I want a— ’
LEONORA. Charlie knows it all by heart, Annie.
CHARLIE. Leonora, I shall never know what to believe.
ANNIE. It was most dramatic.
LEONORA. It was a kind of dramatic urge. You are in a way to blame for the form it took, and so is Catherine.
CATHERINE. I knew we would be to blame in the end.
LEONORA. I have occupied the role in which you’ve cast me. At times of low spirits when one is tired one behaves largely as people expect one to behave. It has been expected of me that I should be envious of you, Catherine, and should want Charlie to give me a child. I’ve instinctively played a part in your minds of Leonora the barren virgin.
DAPHNE. Well, Leonora, isn’t that the truth?
LEONORA. Not the whole truth. The definition excludes other aspects of my personality which are also true.
CATHERINE. The definition is yours, Leonora. We have never referred to you as Leonora the barren virgin. Have we, Charlie?
LEONORA. Charlie has frequently said to his daughter, ‘Your maiden aunt will be here next week.’
D APHNE. How did you know that?
C HARLIE. Daphne, be careful what you say. Leonora’s preparing a thesis based on personal observations of human reactions. We shall all be in the book.
LEONORA. I am trying to point out the context in which you think of me.
D APHNE. Of course you aren’t really my maiden aunt, you’re my maiden second cousin, to be accurate.
LEONORA. And even that might not be accurate.
D APHNE. Why won’t you consult a psychiatrist?
LEONORA. It would reduce me to the ranks. I’m not prepared to be reduced to the ranks, now that I have obtained such an exhilarating glimpse of my dramatic position.
ANNIE. Leonora darling, I think you’re brilliant. That’s exactly what I said to my C.O. in the Wrens when she was trying to intimidate me about some silly business with a lance-corporal. I said to her, ‘I’m not prepared to be reduced to the ranks, that’s all.’ I said, ‘Not when I’m having such a thrilling time up here I’m not going to be reduced to the ranks.’ Of course, she knew I had the Air Vice-Marshal behind me. But it was a most dramatic moment. As soon as she mentioned the ranks I realised that I was a woman of destiny. No woman of destiny, Leonora, should permit herself to be reduced to the ranks, it would be most undramatic.
CATHERINE. I don’t think I can cope with both my cousins having dramatic senses of themselves. I wish I could have a dramatic sense of myself, it must be lovely. But I’m too honest. It’s stark reality for me, every time.
LEONORA. For me, it’s a glimpse of reality which gives me the dramatic sense of myself. Perhaps the same applies to Annie.
CATHERINE. What sort of reality? Everyday life?
LEONORA. Not the everyday life I’ve known so far. But I have a definite sense of being watched.
D APHNE. What?
CATHERINE. What did you say?
LEONORA: A definite sense of being observed and listened to by an audience.
CATHERINE. What sort of audience?
LEONORA. An invisible audience. Somewhere outside. Looking at all of us and waiting to see what’s going to happen.
ANNIE. Leonora, this is thrilling. All my life I’ve had a feeling of being looked at by an audience. That’s why I always take care to be suitably dressed.
L EONORA. Shall Annie consult a psychiatrist, too?
CATHERINE. Oh Annie. Annie has always been like that.
L EONORA. Well, now I’m like that. A great many dons are like that. We all go dotty in the end.
CATHERINE. I see. Somehow I thought you spoke with conviction when you mentioned a sense of being watched. It’s a well-known symptom.
ANNIE. I speak with conviction.
D APHNE. This might be the beginning of something like religious mania, Leonora. There’s a type of religious mania where the patients are beset by a terrible sense of being watched. They feel eyes upon them.
L EONORA. I feel eyes upon me.
D APHNE. It must be ghastly. At least
ANNIE ‘… child. I want a— ’
LEONORA. Charlie knows it all by heart, Annie.
CHARLIE. Leonora, I shall never know what to believe.
ANNIE. It was most dramatic.
LEONORA. It was a kind of dramatic urge. You are in a way to blame for the form it took, and so is Catherine.
CATHERINE. I knew we would be to blame in the end.
LEONORA. I have occupied the role in which you’ve cast me. At times of low spirits when one is tired one behaves largely as people expect one to behave. It has been expected of me that I should be envious of you, Catherine, and should want Charlie to give me a child. I’ve instinctively played a part in your minds of Leonora the barren virgin.
DAPHNE. Well, Leonora, isn’t that the truth?
LEONORA. Not the whole truth. The definition excludes other aspects of my personality which are also true.
CATHERINE. The definition is yours, Leonora. We have never referred to you as Leonora the barren virgin. Have we, Charlie?
LEONORA. Charlie has frequently said to his daughter, ‘Your maiden aunt will be here next week.’
D APHNE. How did you know that?
C HARLIE. Daphne, be careful what you say. Leonora’s preparing a thesis based on personal observations of human reactions. We shall all be in the book.
LEONORA. I am trying to point out the context in which you think of me.
D APHNE. Of course you aren’t really my maiden aunt, you’re my maiden second cousin, to be accurate.
LEONORA. And even that might not be accurate.
D APHNE. Why won’t you consult a psychiatrist?
LEONORA. It would reduce me to the ranks. I’m not prepared to be reduced to the ranks, now that I have obtained such an exhilarating glimpse of my dramatic position.
ANNIE. Leonora darling, I think you’re brilliant. That’s exactly what I said to my C.O. in the Wrens when she was trying to intimidate me about some silly business with a lance-corporal. I said to her, ‘I’m not prepared to be reduced to the ranks, that’s all.’ I said, ‘Not when I’m having such a thrilling time up here I’m not going to be reduced to the ranks.’ Of course, she knew I had the Air Vice-Marshal behind me. But it was a most dramatic moment. As soon as she mentioned the ranks I realised that I was a woman of destiny. No woman of destiny, Leonora, should permit herself to be reduced to the ranks, it would be most undramatic.
CATHERINE. I don’t think I can cope with both my cousins having dramatic senses of themselves. I wish I could have a dramatic sense of myself, it must be lovely. But I’m too honest. It’s stark reality for me, every time.
LEONORA. For me, it’s a glimpse of reality which gives me the dramatic sense of myself. Perhaps the same applies to Annie.
CATHERINE. What sort of reality? Everyday life?
LEONORA. Not the everyday life I’ve known so far. But I have a definite sense of being watched.
D APHNE. What?
CATHERINE. What did you say?
LEONORA: A definite sense of being observed and listened to by an audience.
CATHERINE. What sort of audience?
LEONORA. An invisible audience. Somewhere outside. Looking at all of us and waiting to see what’s going to happen.
ANNIE. Leonora, this is thrilling. All my life I’ve had a feeling of being looked at by an audience. That’s why I always take care to be suitably dressed.
L EONORA. Shall Annie consult a psychiatrist, too?
CATHERINE. Oh Annie. Annie has always been like that.
L EONORA. Well, now I’m like that. A great many dons are like that. We all go dotty in the end.
CATHERINE. I see. Somehow I thought you spoke with conviction when you mentioned a sense of being watched. It’s a well-known symptom.
ANNIE. I speak with conviction.
D APHNE. This might be the beginning of something like religious mania, Leonora. There’s a type of religious mania where the patients are beset by a terrible sense of being watched. They feel eyes upon them.
L EONORA. I feel eyes upon me.
D APHNE. It must be ghastly. At least
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