" Jack was about to comply; but not liking the man's manner, he walked on. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. 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. But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story. When she came to herself, she found that her brother had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant.
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