Marc awoke and instantly regretted it. Horrible memories of the previous day's events trampled each other in a rush for his attention. His head ached and his feet felt oddly heavy and immovable. He groaned and propped himself forward with his hands, then he groaned again. No wonder his feet felt heavy. Toffee was sitting on his ankles. "I don't know how just one man can look so awful," she said lightly. "I should think it would take at least two ... maybe three." "What're you doing here?" Marc asked thickly. "Go 'way." "And a happy good morning to you, too." Toffee slid quickly toward him and brushed cool lips across his forehead. "You scare me," she laughed. Then, suddenly quitting him, she moved across the room to consider herself critically in the bureau mirror. "I don't know why you went to the trouble of getting me a room of my own," she murmured, running her fingers lightly through her hair. "You know very well I wouldn't get any use of it. I can stay materialized only when I'm projected through your consciousness. When you go to sleep, I have to return to your subconscious until you wake up." "Haven't you ever heard of decency?" Marc asked. Toffee nodded. "I've heard talk of it. But nothing interesting." Marc shook his head sadly. "Where are George and those two criminal types we picked up last night?" "How should I know?" Toffee shrugged. "Probably downstairs, stuffing themselves at your expense. That's what I'd be doing. It's nearly ten o'clock." "Holy smoke!" Marc cried. "Is it that late? You mean those maniacs are probably running around loose down there?" He swung his long legs out over the edge of the bed. "Get out of here so I can dress." Toffee started slowly toward the door. "Puritan," she said chidingly. Marc looked up, startled. In day-light, in the lace dress, Toffee's exquisite body seemed merely to be passing through a lightly shaded bower, completely unclothed. Clutching a sheet to him, he jumped up, pulled a scarf from a nearby table and threw it to her. "Here!" he called. "Put that on!" Catching the scarf, Toffee held it out full length. "It's not big enough to do much good, is it?" she asked innocently. "Use it strategically!" Marc sighed, "where it will do the most good." Draping the scarf lightly over her shoulders, Toffee left the room. * * * * * Only minutes later, still needing a shave, Marc joined Toffee in the hallway. Together, they hurried downstairs and made their way directly to the dining room. Toffee had guessed right. Across the room, at a corner table, were George, Marge and Pete. Of the three, George was the only one facing in their direction and he was so busy talking he didn't notice them.