“You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. 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. Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door.
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