"Do you think I would take a harlot to my bed, if it didn't suit my purposes to do so?" "He says right," replied Mrs. ’ She was too distressed to bear this. Anna was singing as she used to sing. 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.
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