The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. "Mr. I love you—with all my heart and soul. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. 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. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling.
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