The girl fairly whirled around again. "Yes?" she said. "Have you thought of something?"
"Yes," Marc said. "Since this is the sportswear department, I assume you have dark glasses?"
The girl sighed again. "There are some around somewhere," she said.
"Well, find me some," Marc said, "only make them darker—dark enough that I won't be able to see through them at all. Paste cardboard inside them or something."
The girl looked at him quizzically, then shrugged. "Okay," she said. "I know when I'm licked."
"And hurry," Marc urged. "There's no time to lose."
The blonde departed, and Marc's attention was taken by a hurried scuffling in the aisle. He opened his eyes and cautiously peered out. A series of blue-clad legs, that, even as he watched them, turned bare and hairy, raced by. When they had passed, Marc leaned back again and gave himself over to a moment of quiet and confused contemplation.
