"_Julie!_" Marc gasped. "I didn't kick you. I know it's hard to believe, but...." "You're darned tootin' it's hard to believe!" Julie sneered. "In fact it's impossible to believe, you liar!" "But...!" "Well, aren't you at least going to call the doctor? As inhuman as we both now know you to be, there must be some slim thread of decency somewhere in the tacky fabric of that character of yours." Marc turned beseechingly to Toffee. "Please," he implored her. "_Please!_ You're not helping matters, you know, in taking that attitude." "Ohhh!" Julie groaned. "I didn't take this attitude, I was kicked into it!" * * * * * With a bland smile Toffee nodded to Marc. Then carefully she removed her hand from the ring, and there was a bright glitter from its surface. Toffee winked broadly and stepped back into the alcove. In the doorway Julie straightened instantly and turned around, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. She stretched her back tentatively. "Well, I'm all right again," she announced heavily. "No thanks to you, Mr. Wife Kicker!" "Julie ..." Marc began, "you've got to listen to me!" "Oh, no, I don't!" Julie corrected him emphatically. "I don't have to listen to you. All I have to do is convince myself that I like that lamp over there too well to shatter it on your skull." Calming herself with an effort, she eyed him with controlled malevolence. She breathed deeply. "I think I can trust myself now not to run to the kitchen for the ice pick." She turned away. "Goodbye, Mr. Marcus Pillsworth!" "Julie...!" "And may your soul blister in everlasting hell!" Julie added as she swept out of the room and into the hallway. Marc stood undecided for a moment. He started toward the hall, then checked himself and spun around in the direction of the alcove. Two striding steps brought him to the drapes, and with a single sweeping gesture of outrage, raked them aside. Toffee was disclosed sitting on the edge of the desk, one leg crossed casually over the other, blowing on her nails. She glanced up and smiled innocently. "Lo," she said. "Why you slithering little reptile!" Marc barked. "Of all the witless stunts...!" Toffee waggled a slender finger at his costume. "Has anyone ever told you how cunning you look in those pajamas?" she murmured. "Are they ripped that way on purpose for ventilation?" With a seizure of modesty Marc snatched at the curtains and clutched them around him. He looked rather like a Roman senator with his toga slipping. Toffee laughed. "I thought that would put the muzzle on you, you old Puritan," she said. * * * * * Marc drew himself up to his full six feet and two inches, and eyed her with lofty disdain. "You're in a nice position to talk," he observed frigidly. "I'm in a nice position for a lot of things," Toffee sighed, "but you'd never notice."