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. "But, I own, I think it is like. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. “Nothing so base. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the author.
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