Marc sighed deeply. "And why on earth did you have to wear that? Heaven only knows what they're thinking out there."
"I know," replied Toffee simply.
Marc turned from her in the resignation of despair, and suddenly stopped short. Facing him, mouth agape, was Julie Mason.
"Good morning, Julie," he stammered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Pillsworth," said Julie absently. Her gaze followed Toffee as she crossed to one of the large, upholstered chairs.
"Oh, yes," said Marc hurriedly. "Julie, this is Toffee, my—uh—my niece. She lost her baggage on the way out and had to wear just what she had left." He laughed nervously, hoping that the fact that Toffee had seen fit to be caught short in an evening gown, might somehow explain itself.
"How-do-you-do," said Julie icily, noting that Marc was a wretched liar.
Toffee peered from the chair to take in the cool, blond Julie.
"Marc has had some lovely thoughts about you," she said gaily. Julie turned to Marc in bewilderment, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Suddenly she pivoted and rushed from the room. The door didn't exactly slam behind her, but there was no doubt about its being closed. Marc slumped into the chair at his desk and stared forlornly after her.
For a time it was quiet in the office until Toffee rose from the chair and crossed to a mirror at the opposite side of the room. Suddenly she turned to Marc.