When he had finishing feeding and burping, Isobella asked her, “Would you like to hold him?” Lucia nodded yes eagerly. I did all for the best, I'm sure. The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate. 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. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls.
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