Unformatted text preview: n with his thick wavy white hair, and what fine clothes he had. He came forward and took his son by the shoulders, and Yuri stepped back. The young bellhop also gave his assistance. They placed Andrew on the bed. Andrew reached out frantically for Yuri. He called Yuri's name. "I'm here, Andrew," said Yuri. "I won't leave you. You mustn't worry. Now let your father call the doctor, please, Andrew. Do as your father says." He sat beside the sick man, one knee bent, holding the man's hand and looking into his face. The sick man's stubbly beard was thicker now, coarse, and brownish, and his hair gave off the smell of sweat and grease. Yuri struggled not to cry. Would the father blame him that he had not called a doctor? He did not know. The father was talking to the bellhop. Then the bellhop went away and the father sat in a chair and merely looked at his son. The father didn't seem sad or alarmed so much as merely worried in a mild sort of way. He had kindly blue eyes, and hands with large knuckles, and heavy blue veins. Old hands. Andrew dozed for a long time. Then he asked again for Yuri to tell him the story about the maharaja's palace. Yuri was distressed by the father's presence. But he blotted out the presence of the father. Th...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10