"I'm sorry," Marc said wearily, "but I don't think I could stand another one of your plans. Not today."
"But this will work," Toffee said brightly. "Now the problem, to put it succinctly, is for me to go to the country, but not to be noticed by Julie. Well, actually, that's the easiest thing in the world."
"Oh?" Marc said. "If you imagine that Julie is likely to overlook a half-naked redhead...."
"Now, look at it this way," Toffee interrupted, "if you wanted to hide yourself where would be the best place?"
"Me," Hotstuff interjected, "I always go out and mix with the crowds when I'm on the dodge."
"Exactly!" Toffee said. She looked on Hotstuff with new respect, then, glancing back to Marc, pointed across the street. "See that bus?"
Tilting his glasses, Marc followed the direction of her pointing finger. Diagonally across the street was parked a large yellow sight-seeing bus of a vintage so distant as to defy memory. At the front of the bus stood a tall, cadaverous looking individual in shirt sleeves, about whom was an atmosphere of listless resignation. Inside the bus, the seats were starkly uninhabited.
"What we do," Toffee went on enthusiastically, "is hire that bus and fill it up with a lot of people. Then we drive out to the country, and when Julie sees this great gang knocking about the place she'll never pay any special attention to anyone in particular. She'll never notice me."
"That's ridiculous," Marc said. "In the first place I doubt I'd ever be able to hire the bus privately."