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. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. “Let’s go. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. “We’re going to be found out someday. ” “I am glad that you have a reasonable excuse for not having been to see me,” she said good-humouredly.
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