![]() 'It's still Los Angeles County.' 'Well, Eubank. ![]() I don't know how many times I've been out this way, but I guess I never paid much attention before.' 'Nothing so different,' said Iverson, easing his foot off the brake. He had brought himself forward from the back seat to peer over Iverson's shoulder through the windshield. 'Wish they'd get moving.' In the rear the third occupant of the coupe, Eubank, older, more tolerant, less often exposed to the outside world than his companions, seemed to be enjoying the interval. There was a jarring screech as Iverson, who was driving the car, slammed on the brake, muttering, 'Goddam women drivers.' 'Yeah,' said Keliog. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. He resented delays at a time like this, when he was anxious about what he must soon do. Slumped in the seat beside the driver, Otto Kellog grunted his displeasure, then sat up impatiently to get his bearings. ![]() In the suddenly thickening traffic, the green two-door Ford coupe with a nasty dent in its front fender was at last forced to slow down. Irving Wallace By eleven o'clock in the morning the sun had come out, and now the women of Oakwood, most of them housewives in summer attire and most of them at the wheels of their own cars, were converging on the business district to do their shopping. First published in Great Britain by New English Library Ltd, in 1969 Copyright © 1969 by Irving Wallace
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