As unobtrusively as possible they changed seats. Toffee settled herself, crossed her legs with care, and turned to the vacant seat at her side. When she spoke her voice was husky and confidential.
"Look, George," she said, "I've been thinking...."
The chair quivered interestedly. "Yes?" George's voice said out of emptiness. "What about?"
"You and me," Toffee said. "I've just been going over things in my mind, and you know, George, I've really been sort of foolish."
"How do you mean?"
"Well take the way I always favor Marc against you. Suddenly it just occurred to me that there's no logical reason for it. After all you're just alike—except for a few little differences, of course."
"Oh?" George said, a note of interest creeping into his voice. "What differences?"
"Well, for instance, you're more aggressive, George. You have a more active, dynamic personality. You're the sort who knows what he wants and goes out after it."
"I suppose you could say that," George admitted. "What else?"