‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. The proceedings of this faction were narrowly watched by a vigilant and sagacious administration. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. That’s the fact about them. “Read this, John. There are, then, in this sorry world, people who can be disinterestedly kind!" The doctor laughed, gave Spurlock's shoulder a pat, and left the room. She had killed him. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. 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. Drink, and no sustaining food. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon.
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