Climbing into the cab, Toffee rubbed her thigh reflectively. "Yeah," she murmured. "Anything."
Marc and Toffee collaborated on a deep, heart-felt sigh of relief as the taxi backed out of the alley and onto the street. They didn't know, however, that the breath they were expending with such satisfaction was soon to be reclaimed in a horrified gasp. This curious phenomenon occurred only a moment later when the taxi slowed to a stop at the corner signal.
They didn't see the sacks approaching; the fearful things were just there at their feet all of a sudden, having arrived with a sickening plop. The car door on Toffee's side swung open, and there was suddenly another depression in the seat. The door closed again just as the taxi pulled out toward the intersection. Apparently the driver hadn't noticed.
"Thought I'd never catch up with you two," George's voice said breathlessly and pleasantly. "It was all a lot of fun, of course, but a bit fatiguing, don't you think?"
With a soul-searing groan Marc closed his eyes and sank deeper into the seat.
"Go strangle yourself," Toffee suggested waspishly.
But George's high spirits would not be quashed. "I really fixed things up, didn't I?" he asked proudly. The money bags leaped from the floor and deposited themselves in Marc's shrinking lap. "How's that, old man?"
Marc responded to this inquiry with a brief strangling noise. His face was turning crimson.
"What's the matter with him?" George asked. "Something disagree with him?"