There were no evidences of any struggle, no overturned chairs or disarranged furniture. She could not help devouring him a little with her eyes across the Burger King booth, handsome shoulders visibly solid underneath his ridiculous polo shirt, his eyes all sweetness and light. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips.
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