"You heard me," said Toffee icily as she stalked from the window with an air of outraged dignity.
Marc stood, for a moment, glaring after her. Finally, noticing that Miss Clatt was plucking at his sleeve, he helped her from the case and followed. When they reached the "Ladies' Ready-to-Wear" department, they found Toffee posing before a full length mirror. She turned to Marc and smiled ecstatically. She looked radiant.
"I could almost forgive you," she cooed.
Marc couldn't say anything. He just glowered.
For fifteen years, Marc Pillsworth hadn't been late for work for a single day, so it was no wonder that his appearance at noon caused considerable excited speculation throughout the agency. The fact that he was accompanied by an extremely racy looking red-head in a black evening gown, lent real shock value to the occasion. To make matters worse, Marc managed to announce his humiliation to the entire staff by rushing through the outer office like a reluctant criminal being taken into custody before a battery of news-reel cameras. Toffee, however, aware that she was cutting quite a figure, (most of which was startlingly apparent), was like a flower girl at a wedding. She had warm smiles for everyone, especially the men.
Swiftly, Marc gained the door to his private office and disappeared inside, but Toffee, upon reaching it, caught in the gala atmosphere of the occasion, turned to face the astonished group.
"You wonderful people—," she began. What message she had for the employees of the Pillsworth Agency was to remain forever a mystery, for suddenly, she lurched backwards into the office and the door slammed to.
"What do you think you're doing!" yelled Marc.
"Let go of me," said Toffee indignantly. "I was only making friends."