For a few minutes he kept them at bay. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. "Enough's as good as a feast. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. 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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