Scene: The drawing room of a Shanghai home. Chinese art contending with Western influences. A tall young man in deep concentration. In his hands he holds a well thumbed copy of Freud's '"'Deluston and Dream." Occasionally he lays down the book to count his pulse or take his blood pressure.
Enter ingénmue of the ultra-modish type. He clutches her hand feverishly. She repossesses herself of it with perfect calm.
Sha: So nice of you to drop in. [li ring for tea"
He: '"Unalterably no! Unless you feel an unassuageable tea compulsion. (Solemnly) Doris, do you believe in dreams?"
She: "Not unless you toll them before breakfast, and they come true by contraries.
He: "But I mean scientifically."
She: "O yes, Henry. Every girl in our set reads Freud. We made. him quite the thing last winter. But when it comes to applying it to people you know, it does-n't seem quite nice, does it!"
He: "Then you haven't been dreaming about: roosters."'
(She betrays bewilderment.)
He: "I have been haunted by dreams of doors, successions of portals, locked doors, barred doors. Last night after an alumni banquet I dreamed of being shut in a cell to which I could not find the door. After a wretched night I decided that my unconscious self was pointing out to me that IT wanted a signifying you, Doris. If only had dreamed about: a rooster it would indubitably howe indicated your interest in ooster—hen, Henry. So sim-So unescapable!
She: (Helpfully) 'I'm so sorry Henry, but I don't seem to_ recall any barnyard visions. Perhaps I dreamed them and forgot. One dees, you know."
He: (Brightening) "Quite so. And at any rate even if unsupported by the dream psychosis I must state that you add greatly to my ego-consciousness., In short you stir my self-appreciative complex."
She: (Flattered but apprehensive) "Are you quite sure you like me to do that?"
He: (With conviction) Unquestionably. I trust you will not think me speaking fanatically even if I sound not strictly national. You cause my psyche to expand. I experience a marked depression of my inhibitory centres when with you, thus inducing "a pleasurable illusion. A delusion of power is put forward which raises the values of my self and assuages the hidden apprehension of inferiority from which humanity suffers."
She: "Well?"
He: "Er—er—er. Will you not make this delusion permanent by marrying me?"
She: Do you mean you love me?"
He: "Though unscientifically phrased that statement approximates accuracy."
She: "Do you love me more than man has ever loved before?"
He: "Undoubtedly -this is a perfectly—normal phenomenon, though my personal reaction thereto places it as exceptional, and) in' marrying you I should ju the best possible way adjust myself to "my environment."
She: (Still probing) "How did you first find out you were fond of me?"
He: "After Blanche changed her mind and married Harry my emotions were left floating unattached in my psyche and it was at that time I succeeded in transferring them to you."
She: (Musingly) "Tt's not the kind of a proposal I used to dream about before I studied psychology. (With sudden decision) Harry, much as I care for you, I will not marry a man who cannot tell me he loves me so that I'm sure I understand him!"
He: (Surprised) But scientific phraseology is so much more exact."
(She stamps her foot.)
He: (Hastily) Doris, I love you!
(They embrace most unanalytically.)
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.