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the direct hand of money a darker side of bread on the tongues communion of flesh. Walking, head up along the highway now, Bash's hand grip- ing his suitcase, his brow beginning to tan, his reality actually had him kicking in desperation and the wild fear of his long drunken drained weakness the Spanish decended man below him on the tentiment stairway. There along the highway appearing no more than a bit over adventureous clean cut character possibly in graduate school his eyes were looking up and he saw his friend O'Neill scrambeling. Like the astrological crab sign he was up the dark extend- ing heights of the stairway grabbing the Malatto with their sixteen hundred dollars worth of travelers checks somewhere on his person right at the turn where disappearance for Bash and escape from O'Neill seemed inevitable. Now the two assailants were gone, but their shreaks of hatred in defeat still rang through the stairwells winding out into the brains of Bash and O'Neill as they stepped blur waves of people coming at them quickly through the morning of the crowded avenue. in multicolored garments down the Here Stavrogin turned his footsteps off the highway some moments North of the Santa Monica Caynon before the freeway exiting conglomerate of stone on to the beach seeing in the Southern California present the waves of a somewhat soft tide distant as a slow moving set against more multicolors spread as bathing suits spread infinitely out from almost determined clinging across the sand changing lack he noticed peace signs in red as well black paint printed wildly across