" "Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other. 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. If only—Anna, tell me,” she broke off suddenly, “how did you get to know Mr. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth.
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