Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. “I’m a ghoul! So you can become a ghoul? You should settle down, John, get married, have children. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. "Give them what you please. No; she'd never go back. “Cheveney!” she repeated. 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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