"The freud will see you now," said the nurse, and Mrs. Garvy tottered into his office.
His traditional glasses and whiskers were reassuring. She choked out the ritual. "Freud, forgive me, for I have neuroses."
He chanted the antiphonal, "Tut, my dear girl, what seems to be the trouble."
C. M. Kornbluth
"The Marching Morons" (1951)
