Where is your library?” “Lost in transit.” Diana cringed. Her hand flew out like a magician’s released dove, but stopped short of my shoulder. “Sorry. It’s none of my business. I just wondered how you can work. All my notes are spread over the margins of my texts. I’d be lost without them.” “Lost is not so bad. It’s practically an advantage in my line.” “Mr. Powers, Mr. Powers.” She shook her head again, tisking through her grin. She did not buy me. But the sales pitch, at least, tickled her.
