Elizabeth didn’t want to leave her room, didn’t want to eat. On Monday, her mother took her to a doctor who would do a full examination.
Learning that Elizabeth was still a virgin did not explain why she was so bereft. The Doctor made a referral to a psychiatrist.
On the way home, her mother said;
“I don’t want to think you have a mental problem, but the doctor does. Can you pull yourself together?”
Although the statement was not one of those deathless bits of prose one can live by, Elizabeth appreciated her behaviour was diverse from normality.
She did not want to go to the mad house, did not want to be on a suicide watch. She had to somehow regain some balance.