She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. Then it dawned. “Sooner or later, John, it will come to that. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. Saviour's Stairs. Michelle laughed, saying that she could only guess. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast.
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