"Thank you, Mr. Jones. It is merely that we noticed you had emptied every showcase on the ground floor and, a few moments ago, teleported the credit contents of the bar up here. Not of importance, really; it is all charged on your bill."
"You saw it and didn't stop it?" I yelled.
"Oh, no, Mr. Jones. We always make an exception for Antimony IX divers. Limited creatures, really, but good for our business. We get about one a month—smuggled in, you know. But the upkeep proves too expensive. Some women do shop without more than a passing thought, don't they?"
I saw what he meant, but Mrs. Sol Jones took it very philosophically.
"Never mind, Sol—you have me."
"Or vice versa, honey," I said.