"A capital instrument for my purpose," thought Jack, shouldering it, "and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it. It was his heart. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. 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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