Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. “You appear,” she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and with unruffled composure, “to be a very impertinent person. She glared at him with satisfaction. The door closed softly upon her. 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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