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. ‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well.
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