That my compassion gene finally kicked in. Write whatever you want.That's what journalists do anyway.' With that, she turned abruptly andwalked away."...oulter stopped reading and winced. That was the old Ann talking. Shestill surfaced sometimes.She tossed aside the magazine and, leaving her half-eaten sandwichbehind, walked outside for a breath of air and to contemplate what thislatest intrusion would mean for the life she had crafted for herself. Nodoubt there would be a small flurry of media. How dare she speak to her like this. She was old enough to be her mother. She ignored her Dorm Mothers question, until she felt a sharp slap across her now bare bottom. 'I asked you a question naughty girl, what are you?' Wendy gritted her teeth and answered as civil as she could. 'I'm a naughty girl' This was met with another sharp slap across her bottom. 'No, wrong answer. You are a VERY - NAUGHTY - LITTLE - GIRL aren't you?' The words 'very naughty little girl' were punctuated by slaps. More

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