She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work. . Good riddance. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. 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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