"Haven't you ever heard of decency?" Marc asked.
Toffee nodded. "I've heard talk of it. But nothing interesting."
Marc shook his head sadly. "Where are George and those two criminal types we picked up last night?"
"How should I know?" Toffee shrugged. "Probably downstairs, stuffing themselves at your expense. That's what I'd be doing. It's nearly ten o'clock."
"Holy smoke!" Marc cried. "Is it that late? You mean those maniacs are probably running around loose down there?" He swung his long legs out over the edge of the bed. "Get out of here so I can dress."
Toffee started slowly toward the door. "Puritan," she said chidingly.
Marc looked up, startled. In day-light, in the lace dress, Toffee's exquisite body seemed merely to be passing through a lightly shaded bower, completely unclothed. Clutching a sheet to him, he jumped up, pulled a scarf from a nearby table and threw it to her. "Here!" he called. "Put that on!"
Catching the scarf, Toffee held it out full length. "It's not big enough to do much good, is it?" she asked innocently.
"Use it strategically!" Marc sighed, "where it will do the most good."
Draping the scarf lightly over her shoulders, Toffee left the room.