"Stay, dear Thames!—stay!" cried the little girl. 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. E. But,” and he faced them both with a still expressionless glance, “this is not the end!” Anna recovered her spirits with marvellous facility. "You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped.
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