The pain from the gas medicine had departed now, and Marc was feeling better. In fact, now that he stopped to think about it, he was feeling so much better he was actually beginning to enjoy himself. Striding forward, counters, customers and gaping clerks fading rapidly into the background, he even found time to admire Toffee's new finery. "That's probably the briefest dress known to man," he remarked amiably. "I hope it shall be well-known to man," Toffee returned happily. "One man in particular. At least I shall endeavor to make it count for the most." "Or the least," Marc said. Arms and legs flashing, they quitted the china department and, according to the signs, entered Sportswear on the left and Imported Liquors on the right. Thinking this a curious arrangement of merchandise, Marc turned to Toffee. He started to speak, then jolted to a halt with a thin wheeze of astonishment. Toffee stopped and turned back. "What's the matter?" she asked. "What are you gaping at?" Marc could hardly believe his eyes. He had turned to Toffee only to observe one of the most astonishing and upsetting things he had ever witnessed. Before his very gaze, her new dress was slowly dissolving into nothing. Already, the skirt had melted away to her thighs. "Holy smoke!" Marc gasped. Then, feeling that affairs were rapidly going too far, he looked quickly away. He fixed his eyes firmly on a female manniquin costumed for tennis. "What's the matter with you?" Toffee demanded. "Your dress ..." Marc said weakly. "My dress?" Toffee said. "What's the matter with my dress? I thought you liked it." Marc opened his mouth to answer, but the words refused to come; suddenly he was confronted by still another cause for alarm. The phenomenon that had so mysteriously struck Toffee had now transferred itself to the manniquin. As he stared at it, the clothes began to fade from its plaster torso with unbelievable rapidity. "Good heavens!" Marc rasped. "Look at that!" "Look at what?" Toffee said, staring at the manniquin. "What are you carrying on so about?" Marc took a breath. "Don't you see anything funny about that dummy?" Toffee observed the dummy more closely. "Very dull," she said. "No sex appeal. Maybe it's those shorts she's wearing." "Shorts?" Marc said. "You mean you can still see shorts--and things?" "What are you babbling about?" Toffee said hopelessly. "What's wrong with that dummy, anyway?" Marc stared at the manniquin wonderingly. "Good Lord!" he breathed, "I've developed X-ray eyes! As far as I'm concerned that dummy's as naked as a plucked chicken." "But that's impossible!" Toffee said. "Yes," Marc said, "but it's true. To me, that dummy is sheer unadorned plaster and nothing else. This is awful!" "Maybe it will wear off," Toffee said uneasily. * * * * *