"Well, the poor dear was so disturbed about my parentage that I left a note explaining the whole thing. I guess it wasn't such a good idea."
"What did you tell him?"
"That my father was a Welsh." Toffee smiled mysteriously and crossed to inspect herself in the mantle mirror.
"I'm a wreck. You miss me while I fix up a bit?"
Marc fell into a chair as she left the room. He sat there regarding the apartment listlessly. It seemed to reflect his own life. Orderly, dignified, unexciting and infinitely lonely. Suddenly his reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. He crossed and opened it. There, looking particularly miserable, stood Julie.
"I hope you'll excuse my coming here," she said timidly. "I've been waiting at the office for you all morning. I tried to call you here several times but there wasn't any answer. I decided to come over and wait for you. Its odd that Joseph didn't answer the phone.
"He wasn't in," said Marc. "Is something wrong?"
"Well, no—not exactly." Julie hesitated. "It's just that—well—it's just that—I want to quit my job with you, Mr. Pillsworth.
"What?" Marc's eyes widened with surprise.
"Yes, Mr. Pillsworth, I want to quit." The words came in a rush. "Now—today. I don't want to ever have to go back."