’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. The modern parts of the book were inspired by my worldview of high school as pure, unadulterated Hell. You see, the trouble is that the matter is in dispute. " "Faix, then we'll do it in style," cried the fellow. "Yes … but dreadfully tired. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. Annabel shook her head. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you.
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