She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him.
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