“Della Rovere knows," I said, "or at least he suspects." "What makes you say that?" "I saw him in the passage a short time ago. He looked. . . upset." "You know he is prone to constipation? Perhaps it was that.”

“Mildred waves Carlos over. 'Let me look at you.' She eyes him up and down. 'I saw you when you walked in. What's with all those tattoos? Makes you look like a hooligan.''I suspect I am a hooligan,' he says to her. 'Whatever that means.”

“What have you done?""Sir," Jack held up his hands in surrender. "I know how this looks. You have every right to be upset.""Upset?" he fumed. "Do I look upset to you?""You look upset to me," I noted.”

“Well," I said finally, knowing he was waiting, "you make me laugh."He nodded. "And?""You're pretty good-looking.""Pretty good-looking? I called you beautiful.""You want to be beautiful?" I asked him."Are you saying I'm not?”

“Your father," Luke said, "what did he say to you when you saw him? What did he promise you?""Oh, you know. The usual. A lifetime's supply of Knicks tickets.”

“You're not the way everyone says you are," Kaye said, looking at him so fiercely that he couldn't meet her gaze. "I know you're not.""You know nothing of me," he said. He wanted to punish her for the trust he saw on her face, to raze it from her now so that he would be spared the sight of her when that trust was betrayed.He wanted to tell her he found her impossibly alluring, at least half enchanted, body bruised and scratched, utterly unaware she would not live past dawn. He wondered what she would say in the face of that.”