" "Rollo!" There were no locks or panelled doors in the bungalow; and Rollo was aware of it. Ann Veronica felt no repulsion at the prospect. 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. Her tone was icy. Well might she do so, Gerald thought in irritation. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him.
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