"Oh, that's all right," Marc said quickly. "Probably it was all for the...."
Suddenly he stiffened.
His gaze had wandered absently to the outspread newspaper on the floor, and a caption was shrieking up at him; "Marc Pillsworth and Unidentified Woman Jailed on Suspicion of Robbery!"
Marc's hand reached down and caught the paper in a strangle hold. Obviously, Julie hadn't bothered to look any further than the theatrical section, so, for the time being, he was still safe. He stuffed the paper under his coat and turned back to her. His throat was dry.
"Maybe you hadn't better go out after all," he said in a rush. "Maybe you'd better just stay right here, where you are. Don't get out of bed."
"What?"
"I was ... was thinking," Marc gasped. "You ... you must be awfully worn out after all those rehearsals and last night's per ... and everything. Maybe you should just stay here and rest for a few days. You know, complete rest ... no telephone calls and ... uh ... newspapers. Nothing to upset you."
Julie gazed at him questioningly for a moment, then she smiled. "Maybe you're right, dear," she said. "I do feel pretty tired at that." She reached out and patted his hand fondly. "You're so thoughtful. You do worry about me, don't you?"
Marc nodded uneasily, and gazed quickly out the window. He was feeling a little guilty.
But not very.