"I do believe," the sign-hider collaborated calmly. "Maybe we should look."
Marc ran to the car, the little man ambling casually along in his wake. Then they both stopped short as the red flash repeated itself at the window and was suddenly followed up with a puckish face. Toffee, her chin poised on the sill, peered out at Marc relievedly.
"I was wondering where you were," she said. "Thought maybe you'd been crumpled up on the floor. You really mashed things up, didn't you?"
"Oh, Lord!" Marc moaned. "Now I've got you on my hands!"
"It would be better," Toffee said insinuatingly, "if you had me in your arms."
At this point the little man shuffled over to Marc's side. "Well, I'll be!" he exclaimed. "I didn't see no woman in there before." He peered at Toffee nearsightedly, "You're one of them redheaded hussies, ain't you?"
"How did you know?" Toffee asked.
"Oughta know," the man said cryptically. "The old woman always blasphemin' about redheaded hussies."
"What does she say?" Toffee asked interestedly.
"Couldn't repeat it," the little man said, "even to a hussy."