Since he’d immigrated, McCarthy’s hopes had often risen like a tide, only to crash into the rocks of reality. And today, by Christ! A lovely blondie, perfect for breeding, had been ripped away by Evil Judge Finnegan. Mary, that was the blondie’s name. Tarry sighed. The very name of Our Blessed Mother. He spied a nenio passed out on a filthy mattress. Oh for the days of coins, for the jingle. Now you had to search their filthy pockets for meal tickets. Tarantula patted down this nenio. A female! His hands brushed her breast. “Apologies to ye lass. No offense meant.” Tarantula retrieved from her pocket a lump of cold wormy rice. She awoke and crawled toward a filthy alley.