“Panthous approached me again. Even though we could no longer stand each other. I got angry for no reason when I merely looked at him—narrow, shrunken, wearing the women’s garments of a priest, and the big head on top. Always the cynical grin. I did not like people on whom you could smell the fear. He could not bear compassion that had contempt in it.” (Pg. 114)

“I could not slap his face yet a second time. Panthous was jealous, spiteful, and sharp-tongued.” (Pg. 11)

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