Aunt Georgy was perfectly delighted. She saw that psychoanalysis was going to make life in Jefferson infinitely more entertaining. The sphere of gossip was so remarkably extended. In old times one could only talk about what had been done, said or written; but now what was dreamed, what was desired, and, best of all, what was entirely omitted could be made as interesting as a crime. She wriggled down into her chair with pleasure as he went on to take up the question of the types that people fell in love with. Of course, we have all noticed how people tend to fall in love again and again with the same type. The spoiled weak son is forever looking for a mother type to take care of him; the girl brought up under the domination of the father idea is attracted by nothing but protective older types of men. Lisburn went on to describe such cases in greater detail so accurately that all through the audience married couples were nodding to one another and themselves. He described also a variant of this: How some people always abused the type that attracted them most; the virile man who is forever making fun of feminine weaknesses, the womanly woman always taking on about man's wickedness; they're afraid of the black magic they attack; they are trying to exorcise the spell-- As soon as the lecture was over, and while eager members of the audience were crowding to the platform to discuss with the speaker the cases of mysterious friends who had dreamed this and forgotten that, Aunt Georgy beckoned to Norma. "Do," she said, "go and disentangle that interesting young man from his votaries, or whatever they are, and bring him down to be introduced to me." "It was interesting, wasn't it?" said Norma, with an effort at detachment. "I can never be sufficiently grateful," answered Aunt Georgy. "It is so satisfactory the way he lays the strictly virtuous open to attack--the sort of people we've wanted to catch in a scandal and never been able to." Norma nodded. "Oh, yes," she said, "Ken thinks people like that have a very foul unconscious." Aunt Georgy gave a slight snort and asked Norma if she remembered the Bab Ballad about: _For only scoundrels dare to do_ _What we consider just and true;_ _And only good men do in fact,_ _What we should think a dirty act._ But Norma did not enjoy a humorous approach to a subject which she had only recently made her own. She withdrew; frowning slightly, and saying that she would try to get a word with him. "Oh, don't let's wait," said Evie after a few minutes, during which the crowd on the platform increased.