Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage looking into the crowded room. ’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing. 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. Now I’ll tell you what I propose. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied.
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