"Do you know what it is to feel that life is made up of a lot of strange questions and problems and desires, and that one person is the answer to them all?" persisted Isabel.
"My dearest child, what funny ideas you have! I am afraid that you read too much poetry and fiction, and that it overexcites your brain."
"Oh! I don't read all that in books," replied Isabel scornfully. "I know it of myself; and, by the way, how many selves have you got?"
"How many selves? Why, only one, of course."
"Well, that is very one-sided of you! Now there are five of me, all neatly labelled and scheduled."
"Which are they, I should like to know?" inquired Lord Wrexham.
"Oh! there is my very best ideal self, and my brilliant society self, and my jolly every-day self, and my ill and unhappy self, and the demon."
"What ever do you mean by the demon?"
"I mean me, when I am shallow and selfish and worldly, and say nasty, sharp things, and care for nothing but admiration, and am a regular wretch all round."
"What is the best self like?"