“Samuel Laverty rose from his chair and opened a window. This he managed to do without disturbing the flow of free association from his analysand, who was stretched out upon the couch.For approximately one minute Dr. Laverty stood before the window, inhaling deeply, while the analysand—a Mrs. Amelia Stoughton, aged fifty-three—continued her monologue."It's all his fault," she was saying. "He doesn't even try to understand me. And the children don't have any consideration. The trouble with them i...s that they're just plain selfish, they don't appreciate me—"Dr. Laverty turned and faced his patient. He blinked rapidly, then scowled and shook his head."The trouble with you," he said loudly, "is that you're a self-centered old horror. You don't need analysis. What you need is a good swift kick in the rump. Now get out of here before I'm tempted to administer that therapy myself."Mrs. Stoughton rose from the couch, bristling and open-mouthed.Suddenly she inhaled deeply and her face reddened.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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