I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. ” The talk was animated, and remained always brilliant in form even when it ceased to be brilliant in substance. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. “I can say no more.
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