“Feel better. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock. 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. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. “I do not know you,” she said coldly. A long and secret conference then took place between the thief-taker and his myrmidons, after which they were severally dismissed. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me.
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