She understood. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. It shall be your wedding ring. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. His favorite newspaper was the Times, which he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home. 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 believe that. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. “I believe that he would bore me.
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