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. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. . "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. Only an undermaid I was then. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel.
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