Boy, did Tony say that at the wrong time. She was practically already dragging out hatboxes, halfway to Paris, and Tony was curling back up around the pillows possessively, turning his face into their forgiving darkness. Muffled and largely unintelligible, he replied, "No way, what would I eat?" What next, would she take the air with her, too? It worked overtime around here, nowhere sighed as much as this house.