She pointed to a bemused, bald-pated individual across the way who was engaged to the last nerve in the business of engraving a pierced heart in the top of the table in front of him. Across from this exhibit sat a lank citizen who was quietly strumming a guitar and chanting a ballad which had to do with a lonesome cowboy whose horse was dead, house was burned, well was dry, range was barren, and he himself was suffering from pernicious anemia--which individual, nonetheless, wished to assure his faithless sweetheart that she was not to worry for a minute that his affairs were anything other than tickety-boo and that he would 'git' along somehow. * * * * * Marc observed these examples of high-minds-at-work with a wry face. "That's just the trouble," he grieved, "they're completely irrational. Heaven knows what they might take a fancy to do to us. Your entrance didn't help any, you know." "Nonsense," Toffee said. "They're just a bunch of harmless children." "So harmless," Marc snorted, "they've danced the whole nation right down the path to extinction." "Oh, that," Toffee said, smiling secretively. "I wouldn't worry about that. I wouldn't waste the time." "Oh, you wouldn't, wouldn't you?" Marc said annoyedly. "Well, let me remind you, Miss Cotton Brain, that you're subject to the laws of extinction just as much as the rest of us. When I die you go with me, you know, and after the way you've messed up my final hours I will consider it a pleasure to perish just to get even with you. I will laugh as the bombs come crashing down on my roof." "You're doing me a terrible injustice," Toffee said. At this point their conversation was abruptly concluded by a heavy rapping from the Chair. "The Chair addresses the young woman known as Toffee." "If I'm known as Toffee," Toffee snapped, "then call me Toffee. Stop making me sound like some loose-moraled hussy slinging her hips around in a Klondike saloon." "Just remain seated," the Chair said severely, "and speak into the microphone on the table. There are some questions for you to answer before we proceed." Toffee eyed the Chair with raised eyebrows. "Okay," she said. "Shoot." She turned to Marc. "Stop nudging me." "First of all," the Chair said. "Please make a statement of your political affiliations." "Political affiliations?" Toffee said, completely bewildered. "If you mean have I ever had anything to do with politicians, I haven't. I might as well say that I think all politicians are a bunch of bums." She turned again to Marc. "Are you ill, dear? Why are you making that awful choking noise?" Marc repeated the awful choking noise, and the Chair rattled for attention. The Chair also glowered through its glasses. "What the committee wants to know is which political philosophy do you embrace?"