I drank from the side of the mug that a left-handed person would use, in the belief that fewer mouths had been on that side. That is also my policy with cups, any vessel with a handle, although you can usually count on cups getting a more thorough washing than bar glasses. (Chapter 1, p. 27)

I slept in the car again, although I didn't like it, being exposed that way to people walking by and peering in the windows, watching me sleep. It was like lying supine on the beach with your eyes closed and fearing that some terrible person in heavy shoes will come along and be seized by an impulse to stomp on your vulnerable belly. (Chapter 3, pp. 39-40)

Then after a few minutes it came to me. I knew where Dupree had gone and I should have known all along. He had gone to his father's...