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. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. You see—I didn’t understand. " "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it.
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