’ ‘But what of justice?’ asked Lucilla, evidently dazed. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. You guys don’t fool around, that was one big Thanksgiving dinner.
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