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. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. —'They have,' says he. "Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand.
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