“I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. Let him have his honeymoon. "The devil you have! Then, perhaps, you can tell me when he intends to put his threat into execution?" "What threat?" asked Jackson. 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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