"You're cleverer, too. Look at the way you've got Marc bottled up right now, for example. He's a dead duck. In fact, to tell you the truth, George, you make Marc look pretty sick. I'm beginning to think a girl would be much better off with you."
George cleared his throat. "You're sure you mean it?" he asked.
"Of course I do," Toffee said. "Why wouldn't I, George? It's not just that you're cleverer and more dominant than Marc, there are other little things too, things only a woman would notice. Your eyes, for instance."
"My eyes?"
Toffee nodded. "Uh-huh. Your eyes are ever so much more exciting than Marc's. I don't know what it is, but there's a subtle difference. I guess it's personality. I've always noticed it."
"Oh, my eyes aren't all that good," George demurred. "Pleasant and friendly, perhaps, but...."
"Oh, much more than that," Toffee insisted. "Flashing and roguish."
"You really think so?"
"Certainly. That and more." Toffee paused for a moment, appeared hesitant. "George...?"
"Yes, Toffee?"