"His shin may need rubbing. She told us that it was a disguise. 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. ‘Imbecile. Let us have no more of this humbug. “I believe it is. ’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated.
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