CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. 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. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. She had come to the end of her resources. ” Her heart had warmed toward him. ‘So now you will please to go away and leave me to my business. ” The man smiled at him.
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