"Maybe it's all for the best," Toffee said. "At least their last days will be pleasant."
In the grey coolness of the fashion salon, Toffee, Marc and Mr. Baker, the manager, sank into low, comfortable chairs and accepted the services of a dark, aloof young lady who brought them drinks in tall, cool glasses. An orchestra played muted background music as from a misted distance. All in all the salon was a den of pleasant relaxation.
Girls of all types and unparalleled beauty paraded constantly in the latest words from the fashion centers of the world. Some of the fashion designers, Toffee concluded approvingly, were given to very brief and suggestive words. She also noted—again with approval—that most of those in attendance were males.
"They come here to make dates with the models," the manager explained. "But then the models come here to make dates with the men, so it's all right. I see Congressman Bloodsop hasn't arrived yet."
Toffee leaned forward interestedly. "The congressman?" she said. "Tell me, is this Congressman Bloodsop a man of influence? Does he have connections in high places?"
Marc interrupted the answer. "Pick out some clothes and let's leave," he said impatiently. "I have to get home and start looking for Julie."
"That can wait," Toffee said airily. She turned back to Mr. Baker with a smile. "You were saying...?"
"The congressman has the best of connections," he said. "He's only been in office six months and he's already bilked the nation of millions."
"I see," Toffee said thoughtfully. "And if you were me and were picking out a dress that would interest Congressman Bloodsop what kind would you choose?"