“All the more reason to listen carefully and afterwards digest it. I’d got to the point where your character, through weakness—we’ll call it pliancy—got moulded into your aunt’s character. I watched it happening with a good deal of regret, and some interest. What you’ve always lacked is moral courage. Sooner than brave the storm your own ideas would raise, you covered-them up and pretended to think as your aunt thought. Whatever she wanted you to think, you thought; whatever she wanted you to like, you liked. That is to say, you pretended to. Your aunt managed to convince you that it was wrong to have your own opinions, so you started on a double pretence. You pretended to your aunt, and you pretended to yourself. That’s when you became Elizabeth-Anne. People like your father enthused about your sweet disposition, and tractableness. People like me, who are always rude, thought you insufferable. Well, the pretence became a habit, so much so that Elizabeth got thoroughly smothered until not even yourself knew that she was there. But she was. Asleep, I daresay.” He paused, but Elizabeth made no remark. “Then you met Stephen. I’m going to hit hard now, Elizabeth, I’m afraid. You pretend to be in love with Stephen because he was a celebrity, and because you thought how jolly it would be to get married and be independent. That was Elizabeth stirring underneath Elizabeth-Anne. You didn’t love him. You got caught by glamour—and ignorance. You married him, and your father and aunt were sentimental about it and thoroughly pleased. Next you discovered that marriage wasn’t quite such an idyll as you imagined it was going to be. You were badly handicapped by the fact that you didn’t love your husband. Elizabeth-Anne, being still on top, you tried hard to think you did love him, instead of facing the truth quietly and seeing what could be done about it. All this time, Elizabeth was slowly waking up. When you left Stephen you’d left off pretending for a time. I’m not going into the question of whether it was right or wrong to leave him. I only know that it was sincere. Well, you agreed to part, and then you began your life alone. I watched you. It was interesting. At first I thought you’d go home to your people. You didn’t, and I realised that Elizabeth was more awake than I’d guessed. You began to get fed up with your aunt. That was rather a severe blow to Elizabeth-Anne. However, it didn’t kill her. You made a fool of yourself over Wendell. You see the hand of Elizabeth-Anne? You evidently had a row with Wendell, and Elizabeth climbed uppermost again. It was Elizabeth-Anne who married Stephen, my child, but it was Elizabeth who parted from him, and who returned to him. And now it’s a fight between the two. You’re trying to be Elizabeth, but you can’t help feeling that you ought to be Elizabeth-Anne. See?”