Her opponent was a bulging sort of woman, taller than average, rather 
topheavy on those heels, the sort of teacher whose very fleshiness 
becomes the object of morbid awe among her gamine pupils, whose 
personal toilet practices—the penchant for dandruff, the habitually 
worn-out lipstick, the little wad of congealed saliva at the corner of the 
mouth—loom larger in her students' minds than the Great Pyramids or the 
Lewis and Clark Expedition. Like all other women, Miss Stricken benefited from 
a lack of external genitalia that would make it more difficult for Nell to 
incapacitate her, but nevertheless, Nell could think of half a dozen ways to
leave her a bloody knot on the floor and not waste more than a quarter of a 
minute in the process. During her time with Constable Moore, noting her 
benefactor's interest in war and weapons, she had taken up a renewed interest 
in martial arts, had paged back in the Primer to the Dinosaur's Tale and been 
pleased but hardly surprised to discover that Dojo was still holding lessons 
there, picking up just where he and Belle the Monkey had left off.