lingered malignantly on the black dress. "Lucky for you," she said caustically. "You'd be in a really rotten spot for it, if you did."

"But Julie! You don't understand!" Marc cried, disentangling his long legs, and getting uncertainly to his feet.

"I've understood for longer than you think!" Julie cried angrily. "I've always suspected that this sort of thing was going on around here, and when you broke our luncheon date, I thought I'd come down to find out the reason. I knew if I waited around long enough, something would turn up."

Marc turned beseechingly to Toffee. "Tell her," he pleaded. "Tell her I'm a good husband."

Toffee, flattered at being invited to take such an important part in this domestic drama, turned beamingly to Julie. "You just don't know what a wonderful husband you have," she announced innocently.

"I daresay," fumed Julie. "And someday, when you're not too exhausted from frisking around on the floor with him, suppose you drop around and tell me all about it!"

"She doesn't know what she's saying!" Marc cried.

"Don't ever tell her," Julie said with false sweetness, "or you'll ruin some of the liveliest testimony ever written into a court record."

"Court record?"

"The divorce courts do keep records, don't they?"

"Divorce!"

The echo of Marc's cry was still in the air, as Julie crossed to the door.

"Yes. Divorce, Marc Pillsworth!" she said, turning back. "And I do mean you."

"But—but you haven't any grounds," Marc said hopefully.

"Don't worry about that," Julie replied, opening the door. "By the time I get to court, I'll have more grounds than a national park."

The slam of the door put a very definite end to the discussion.

Marc and Toffee stared dumbly at each other as the angry tap of Julie's heels, retreating through the outer office, and down the stairs, sounded dimly back to them through the 

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