"You didn't have to knock me down," he murmured woundedly.
Toffee glanced down at her defeated adversary and started with amazement.
"Marc!" she cried. "How did you get down there?"
At the phone booth Marc was still panting for breath. "Did you expect me to come out of there dancing a rhumba?" he asked peevishly.
Toffee whirled about. "Marc!" she yelled.
"Stop screaming my name at me," Marc said. "All I want is...!"
His voice retreated down his throat with a gurgle of surprise as he caught sight of George.
"Wha...!"
Toffee turned from one to the other. "Which one of you is which?" she gasped confusedly.