" This frankness rather subdued Spurlock. Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. 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. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. ’ ‘Alas.
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