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But he rapidly recovered and came on at me, gibbering like an incensed baboon. By this time all the humiliations I had suffered in the past, since succumbing to the fear-complex that my uncle had beaten into me all the outrage of them was boiling in me for vengeance. I saw the blood bathing the torn ear of my antagonist. It looked beautiful. I was no longer afraid of anything.
"He's in a very bad way, Mrs. Woodburn," he said. "Advanced arterial deterioration. And the condition is complicated by some deep-seated fear-complex." The doctor was young, up-to-date, and dabbling in psycho-therapy. "Fear of death?" asked Mrs. Woodburn. "Fear of life, I think," the other answered. "He wouldn't talk to me. And I can't, of course, attempt a mental analysis." Mrs.
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