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. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. "Iss, Massa. ’ Gerald could not suppress a grin. Years ago I marked out an intinerary for myself; but the trip never materialized.
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