Her massive, heavychinned face was untouched by makeup and suggested an equal innocence of other attentions. "Fertilizers! Poo! Expedients, Weener miserable, makeshift expedients!" Her unavoidable eyes bit into mine. "What is a fertilizer? A tidbit, a pap, a lollypop. Indians use fish; Chinese, nightsoil; agricultural chemists concoct tasty tonics of nitrogen and potash where's your progress?