The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me. “We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr. "Oh! never mind him: he'll take no harm! Come with me into the parlour.
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