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. White Sears special-order orthopedic shoes, polyester pants, and cotton print blouses were her usual weekend attire. “Confound sex from first to last!” said Ann Veronica. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. Come along, master.
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