“You—appear to know my name, sir,” Sir John said. Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burthens. "I've been always true to you. They don’t now. 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.
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