She addressed Capes as though she spoke to him alone. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. 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. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. “But, of course, she may have come from one of the other flats. ‘You are outrageous. . Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts.
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