“We parted— that night the best of friends. 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. You and the girl have made it soft for him, and I'm going to make it soft for him. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning. still a kid!” He said.
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