Mary was a misfit. She didn't want to be beautiful. And she wasted time doing mad things--like eating and sleeping.
excerpt
"Doctor will see you now."
Mrs. Cuberle took Mary's hand and they walked behind the nurse down a long corridor.
A man who seemed in his middle twenties looked up from a desk. He smiled and gestured toward two adjoining chairs.
"Well--well."
"Doctor Hortel, I--"
The doctor snapped his fingers.
"Of course, I know. Your daughter. Ha ha, I certainly do know your trouble. Get so many of them nowadays--takes up most of my time."
"You do?" asked Mrs. Cuberle. "Frankly, it had begun to upset me."
"Upset? Hmm. Not good. Not good at all. Ah, but then--if people did not get upset, we psychiatrists would be out of a job, eh? Go the way of the early M. D. But, I assure you, I need hear no more." He turned his handsome face to Mary. "Little girl, how old are you?"
"Eighteen, sir."
"Oh, a real bit of impatience. It's just about time, of course. What might your name be?"
"Mary."
"Charming! And so unusual. Well now, Mary, may I say that I understand your problem--understand it thoroughly?"
Mrs. Cuberle smiled and smoothed the sequins on her blouse.
"Madam, you have no idea how many there are these days. Sometimes it preys on their minds so that it affects them physically, even mentally. Makes them act strange, say peculiar, unexpected things. One little girl I recall was so distraught she did nothing but brood all day long. Can you imagine!"
