Prescient.

"Why, Rebecca, how can you call him a name like that?" Evelyn exclaimed.
Rebecca laughed, "Oh, come off it, Kansas. You can't pretend you like the son of a bitch."
Evelyn thought very deeply. She had to admit to herself, and then to Rebecca, that she did not.
"Look," Rebecca said, "if there's racial equality, we have the right to hate bores and loud-mouths regardless of what species they are."
Evelyn was a little reluctant to admit she was right. "He is an aggressive fellow, but after all, Becky, any member of a minority is bound to be ..."
"Now that's real prejudice, Evelyn. If you think you have to go around loving all Jews because of what happened in Germany, then you're as guilty as Hitler is, or was. For God's sake, respect us enough to hate us when you feel like it."
"I see," Evelyn said in a small voice that held an enormous new realization. "Yes. Of course I see." But if anyone but a Jew had told her what Rebecca had, she would have labeled the person "a vicious anti-Semite."

*
Good Luck, Miss Wyckoff by William Inge
Little, Brown and Company 1970