I knew I would never see Mona again, because I knew that a witch like Mona would see blood all over them. He could read my face if not my mind. It took a great sense of power in him, I thought, to look so readily abject, to show me such affliction. I think I can persuade her to come and help me with this.
I tried to shut my eyes again, but I was too seduced by him, his total double of me, even to my leather coat and black pants, and his crazed expression which surely didn't reflect mine. for Lonigan and Sons in the Irish Channel -- back to the turf where Manfred Blackwood had owned his first saloon. What does your mind tell you? he whispered. But he and I, for so long mysterious bedfellows, are now enemies, and I dread his attacks because I feel his increasing strength.
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