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. He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought.
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