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. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. ch. He seemed to her indistinguishably about her father’s age. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. A hansom stopped a little way off.
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