“Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. " "And you married me, knowing?" "I married the man who bought a sing-song girl to give her her freedom. I've told you about him; and you wrote a shrewd yarn on the subject. 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 came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. The girl stupidly ran for the teacher leaving her still without clothing.
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