"But, let me tell you, it's not a pleasant sight to see the girl one likes in the arms of another. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. 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. She had not nursed Leonardo for weeks for nothing. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up in some dudgeon. Sebastian snorted, “If it isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black!” “Your house is host to the lowest forms of life, those without morals! I will no longer allow my children to live 210 in such a house. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love.
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