"Of what?" Toffee said sharply.
"These glasses," Marc said. "The young lady was good enough to fix them so you can't see through them."
"Just glasses," the blonde murmured regretfully. "And that's all." She made a small sound of disillusionment. "And I thought this was going to be my lucky day, too."
"It is," Toffee said. "If anything had passed between you two besides a pair of glasses, you'd be wearing your neck off the shoulder this season."
"Where did you get the champagne?" Marc broke in. "Or is that a subject too delicate to discuss?"
"Almost," Toffee said grandly. "I ran into a salesman in Imported Liquors with foreign ideas. We indulged in a bit of hand-wrestling amongst the East Indian wines, and he lost. He's resting quietly now, however." She held out one of the bottles of champagne. "I used this to defend myself." She shoved the bottle into Marc's hand. "Let's get slightly damp."
Meanwhile the blonde had begun to edge away.
"Leaving?" Marc asked pleasantly.
"I'm going over to Imported Liquors," the blonde said.
She departed, and Marc extracted the cork from the bottle with a fruity pop and handed it back to Toffee.