But in certain respects it was something more, and in others something less than hysteromania; or either hysteria or mania; or any combination thereof.

The Indian letter-writers, awaiting clients, fresh paper and carbons rolled into their machines, greeted Victor Crabbe with smiles and waved hands.

Beard untrimmed by barber's shears, Hair all frouncing 'bout his ears,

He was a wild black beast who raped my mother. […] Ever since I can remember he's been in a nigger pose of agony. He is the wilderness. He speaks niggerly groveling about wanting to touch me with his black hand.