Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. 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. To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. She further suspected that he might find a servant to dally with in the meantime, if he had not already. Gone off, cool as you please, and left me to manage everything.
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