” “But how?” “I poured him out some port wine, and I said—let me see—oh, ‘You are going to be a grandfather!’” “Yes. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. 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. "Not dangerously, I hope," returned Thames; "but fly—save yourself.
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