Toffee placed her hand menacingly on her hip and fixed the young man with a steely eye. "Am I going to have to deal with you?" she asked, "Or are you going to button your lip like a good child?"
The orderly spoke no further.
Toffee raised the cylinder, sighting the length of Marc's lean, sheet-covered body. Then she pressed the switch.
The orderly stared, wide-eyed, and repeated his bird imitation. The place where Marc had lain was suddenly as bare as a banquet board after the feast. Where a moment before there had been a long thin man, now there was only a long, thin sheet.
"Hey!" the orderly bleated. "Ho!"
"So long, phrasemaker," Toffee said, and tucking the cylinder under her arm, moved off quickly down the hall and around the corner.
It was just as the orderly observed the last flirt of Toffee's hip that the doctor appeared from the door of the operating room and looked distractedly in his direction.
"Good grief, man!" he said, "haven't you brought Pillsworth with you?"
The orderly started nervously and looked around.
"He ... he ... he...!" he gibbered. "That is, she ... she...!" He pointed in hopeless confusion down the hall.