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’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor.
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