The girl sighed again. "There are some around somewhere," she said. "Well, find me some," Marc said, "only make them darker--dark enough that I won't be able to see through them at all. Paste cardboard inside them or something." The girl looked at him quizzically, then shrugged. "Okay," she said. "I know when I'm licked." "And hurry," Marc urged. "There's no time to lose." * * * * * The blonde departed, and Marc's attention was taken by a hurried scuffling in the aisle. He opened his eyes and cautiously peered out. A series of blue-clad legs, that, even as he watched them, turned bare and hairy, raced by. When they had passed, Marc leaned back again and gave himself over to a moment of quiet and confused contemplation. He tried hard to find some clue to the cause of his extraordinary eye affliction, but arrived at nothing definite. There was a rustling at his side and he turned to find that the blonde had rejoined him. He closed his eyes again as the net brassiere, for a second time, began to appear from beneath the fading fabric of her dress. "Here are the glasses," the blonde said coldly. "I put tape on the inside of the lenses." Marc held out his hand and she gave them to him. "Your eyes certainly must be sensitive." "You'll never know," Marc said gloomily and slipped the glasses on. "Can you see anything at all?" the blonde asked inquisitively. "Not a thing," Marc said. "It's a great relief." "Mister," the blonde said flatly, "I guess I just don't understand you." There was the sound of stealthy approach from the direction of the aisle, and Marc quickly lowered the glasses to observe Toffee approaching on tip-toe. She was carrying a bottle of champagne under each arm and she looked enormously pleased. "I think they've gone," she said. Then, seeing the blonde, suspicion flickered in her eyes. "Leave it to you; all I have to do is turn my back and you're snuggled up with some big blonde." "I'm not snuggled up," Marc said. "I've been making a purchase." "Of what?" Toffee said sharply. "These glasses," Marc said. "The young lady was good enough to fix them so you can't see through them." "Just glasses," the blonde murmured regretfully. "And that's all." She made a small sound of disillusionment. "And I thought this was going to be my lucky day, too." "It is," Toffee said. "If anything had passed between you two besides a pair of glasses, you'd be wearing your neck off the shoulder this season." "Where did you get the champagne?" Marc broke in. "Or is that a subject too delicate to discuss?" "Almost," Toffee said grandly. "I ran into a salesman in Imported Liquors with foreign ideas. We indulged in a bit of hand-wrestling amongst the East Indian wines, and he lost. He's resting quietly now, however." She held out one of the bottles of champagne. "I used this to defend myself." She shoved the bottle into Marc's hand. "Let's get slightly damp." Meanwhile the blonde had begun to edge away.