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. An extra pair of gym clothes materialized within fractions of a second. It’s not you—not a bit. He was as hard as a rock. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. And in this fact lay his danger. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre.
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