Meysey Hill—never your wife. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. Anna said nothing. 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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