"Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses. Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. 137 The living conditions of her kills were often so sordid that she would spend hours washing them off of her, and August brought her to the Greene River once again, scrubbing the stink from her hair with Ivory Liquid Dishwashing Detergent.
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