Beryl picked up a sandwich, opened the paper box, and the fragrance wafted into her nose. She took a bite, and the sandwich was just the right size, with delicious ingredients blending in her mouth without being greasy, making it hard to stop eating.
Seeing her enjoy the food so much, Marcellus pushed his coffee and cornflakes aside and also took one. After just one bite, he couldn't help but comment, "I didn't expect the food at this restaurant to be quite good."
With her mouth full, Beryl didn't pay attention to him.
Marcellus narrowed his eyes and looked at her, "Beryl, you're doing well. Others would share the good food first, but you, enjoying it all by yourself, don't even acknowledge me?"
"Oh, where did you get that idea..." Beryl thought he was being unreasonable and didn't want to talk to him.
Marcellus didn't continue to tease her, feeling content watching her eat.
He decided that from now on, whenever Beryl came here, he would have the restaurant's chef make her sandwiches to her heart's content!
After eating to about seventy or eighty percent full, Beryl stopped. Marcellus ate slowly; he knew dining table manners, and this graceful manner wasn't something he put on; it was a part of his life, instilled in him since childhood.
Beryl thought of this and couldn't help but recall last night. She tried to probe, "What made you unhappy last night?"
Hearing this, Marcellus's utensils paused for a moment, and even the curve of his lips froze briefly. But in an instant, he regained his nonchalant appearance. "Nothing, just a little annoyed."
He acted as if he didn't want to talk about it, and Beryl hesitated, but she could sense his determination not to discuss it, so she ultimately didn't say anything.
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