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. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. “That’s all very well when one isn’t the material experimented upon,” Ann Veronica had remarked. Once they were below, McClintock turned upon the doctor.
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