The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. 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’m not the Devil. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. "The guv'ner'll be here afore midnight. Sebastian howled with laughter, doubling over.
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