"Because you're my agent?"
"Lowly though that may be, yes."
Joe Hyman, stocky, gray-suited, and Sam Jeffries, tall in blue, shifted from one foot to the other.
The Saint could have kissed her. She showed that perfect combination of camaraderie and contempt, of distrust and declination, that a temperamental artist exhibits toward her agent.
"How do you do?" the Saint said, and shook hands.
Joe Hyman was inarticulate, with small hard hands. He shook as if his life depended upon it. Sam Jeffries gave the Saint a handful of limp bananas.
"We were just about to go out and put an edge on the town," Jeffries said.
The Saint appeared to consider.
"A sound idea, seems to me. Why don't we all do it?"
Each of the boys looked at Avalon. They obviously didn't relish extra company. She looked at them, then at the Saint. She shrugged. Sam Jeffries said, "Why not?"