They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. Do you indeed remember? The smell of decay and cheap methylated spirit!.
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