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. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. But I am afraid I am a shockingly obstinate and a very ungrateful person. “Who?” She asked. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. I'll cable to-night, and in a few days we'll have some news. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel.
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