"—by some young swain," he added.
"Marc there just isn't any hope for you."
"I'd have agreed with you two days ago."
"And now?"
"Who knows?"
"I'm sure I don't."
"That's as it should be." Marc started for the bed room. "I could use a little sprucing up myself." At the door he turned back. "Suppose we make a special occasion of dinner tonight—go somewhere, where the food is especially good? I know a place that serves a wonderful welsh rarebit. I was there just night before last." Toffee's smile immediately disappeared and for a moment her eyes searched Marc's face, which had, suddenly, become quite serious. Her smile reappeared as suddenly as it had faded, but it seemed a bit more set.
"I'm sure I'll love it," she said.
Marc spoke slowly and his voice carried a touch of sadness.
"And remind me to stop by the drug-store for sleeping tablets. I ran out the other night."