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. But I'm not worrying about that. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. He seemed to be about to move toward her. He jumps the words out of your mouth; he takes hold of what you have to say before you have had time to express it properly. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes.
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