’ ‘Oh, a ruin,’ exclaimed Mrs Sindlesham, throwing up a hand. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. I haven't touched the other. 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. ’ ‘In one little minute,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘it is over and voilà tout.
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