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. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. “I’m not a good woman. "The danger's past," whispered Bess. The Return. . gutenberg.
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