But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. Hoddy. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. 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. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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