"A pause for refreshment," he said, "and then we've got to do something about my eyesight. Did you say the cops have gone?"
"The last I saw of them," Toffee said, "they were lumpering through ladies' lingerie, headed for silverware and china." She paused for a deep drink from the bottle. "With the head of steam they had worked up they should be far beyond the horizon by now."
"Good," Marc said. He received the bottle from Toffee and drank thirstily. "Cops have a positive talent for being disagreeable."
"A bad lot," Toffee nodded. "They tend to weigh on the spirit. And speaking of spirits don't keep sucking at that bottle all day. Save some for me."
Twenty minutes later, one bottle depleted, the other tucked protectively beneath Toffee's arm, the two emerged unsteadily from behind the counter and started on an uneven course down the aisle.
"You'll have to lead me," Marc said thickly. "I can't see a thing."
Toffee took his hand. "Blind as a drunken bat," she giggled.
"You will probably lead me astray," Marc said happily.
"I shall do my best," Toffee said. "Luckily, I'm familiar with the route."