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. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. I've another reason for supposing he'll pay me a visit. wonderful.
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