yelled Marc, casting a dummy aside. "You heard me," said Toffee icily as she stalked from the window with an air of outraged dignity. Marc stood, for a moment, glaring after her. Finally, noticing that Miss Clatt was plucking at his sleeve, he helped her from the case and followed. When they reached the "Ladies' Ready-to-Wear" department, they found Toffee posing before a full-length mirror. She turned to Marc and smiled ecstatically. She looked radiant. "I could almost forgive you," she cooed. Marc couldn't say anything. He just glowered.

For fifteen years, Marc Pillsworth hadn't been late for work for a single day, so it was no wonder that his appearance at noon caused considerable excited speculation throughout the agency. The fact that he was accompanied by an extremely racy looking red-head in a black evening gown lent real shock value to the occasion. To make matters worse, Marc managed to announce his humiliation to the entire staff by rushing through the outer office like a reluctant criminal being taken into custody before a battery of news-reel cameras. Toffee, however, aware that she was cutting quite a figure (most of which was startlingly apparent), was like a flower girl at a wedding. She had warm smiles for everyone, especially the men. Swiftly, Marc gained the door to his private office and disappeared inside, but Toffee, upon reaching it, caught in the gala atmosphere of the occasion, turned to face the astonished group. "You wonderful people--," she began. What message she had for the employees of the Pillsworth Agency was to remain forever a mystery, for suddenly, she lurched backward into the office and the door slammed shut. "What do you think you're doing!" yelled Marc. "Let go of me," said Toffee indignantly. "I was only making friends." Marc sighed deeply. "And why on earth did you have to wear _that_? Heaven only knows what they're thinking out there." "I know," replied Toffee simply. Marc turned from her in the resignation of despair, and suddenly stopped short. Facing him, mouth agape, was Julie Mason. "Good morning, Julie," he stammered. "Good afternoon, Mr. Pillsworth," said Julie absently. Her gaze followed Toffee as she crossed to one of the large, upholstered chairs. "Oh, yes," said Marc hurriedly. "Julie, this is Toffee, my--uh--my niece. She lost her baggage on the way out and had to wear just what she had left." He laughed nervously, hoping that the fact that Toffee had seen fit to be caught short in an evening gown might somehow explain itself. "How-do-you-do," said Julie icily, noting that Marc was a wretched liar. Toffee peered from the chair to take in the cool, blond Julie. "Marc has had some lovely thoughts about you," she said gaily. Julie turned to Marc in 

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