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She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges. They were filthy after the burial. Everywhere there are limitations. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. He knew that he could translate literally. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. 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. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales.
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