Inside the window, a state of chaos had swiftly been reached. In their struggle, Toffee and Marc had managed to knock down several dummies and get themselves hopelessly entangled in the mess. The scene was now made up entirely of a horrible, wild mass of frantic arms and legs. Suddenly the mob became silent once more at the rather dismaying appearance of Miss Clatt in the window. She stopped short and surveyed the terrifying display with eyes that revolved like pin-wheels. Hastily, she gained the front of the window by a series of quick, side-stepping hops and pulled down the huge shade, shutting off the window from the street. Instantly a loud roar of disappointment was heard from the crowd. "My, my," murmured Miss Clatt, as she reached into the heap of arms and legs in an attempt to disentangle the frantic couple. Toffee was the first to emerge. Miraculously, she had somehow managed, during the struggle, to get into the evening gown. She smiled at Miss Clatt. "I can't stand men who make scenes, can you?" she asked haughtily. "_I_ make scenes!" 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 backwards into the office and the door slammed to. "What do you think you're doing!" yelled Marc. "Let go of me," said Toffee indignantly. "I was only making friends."