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Unformatted text preview: ed that there was a hotel just at the top. He did not know if he could make that climb. Yuri debated. A taxi ride round and about would take a long time. But that was best for this man, for the climb might really hurt him. Yuri flagged a taxi, he gave quick directions. "Yes, the Hassler," said the man with great relief, sinking down against the seat, his eyes rolling up in his head suddenly as if he were going to die then and there. But when they reached the familiar lobby, where Yuri had played often as a child, but not enough to be remembered by the aloof and critical-looking employees, it seemed the man had no room there-only a great wad of Italian money, and an impressive packet of international credit cards. In smooth and easy Italian-broken only by a few coughs-the man explained that he wanted a suite, his right arm all the while heavily draped over Yuri's shoulder, no explanation for Yuri's presence as he leaned upon Yuri, as if, if it weren't for Yuri, he would fall. On the bed, he collapsed and lay silent for a long time. A faint warm stagnant odor rose from him, and his eye...
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- Spring '10