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. It was as if he could smell it on her. But Jack was too nimble for him. . " "And money?" "I'll have plenty, if I'm careful. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. . "Wretch!" cried Jack.
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