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Unformatted text preview: thrill of pain passed through him, because this was exactly the phrase his motner naa ai- ways used to him. And this stranger had said it in the very same way. "Let me help you," said Yuri. He took the man's right hand, which lay lifeless and wet on the table. "You're so cold." The man tried to speak again but he began to cough. Yuri stiffened. He feared suddenly that the man would cough blood. The man took out a handkerchief, awkwardly as if he could scarce manage the ges- ture, and covered his face with it. He shuddered in perfect silence as if swallowing everything-blood, noise, pain. Then in a curiously awk- ward and lopsided fashion, he tried to get to his feet. Yuri took command. He slung his arm around the man's narrow waist and pulled him gently up and off through the crowd of iron tables with the chattering tourists, and then he helped him slowly and pa- tiently along the beautiful clean Via Condotti, past the bright flower stands, and the open shops. It was now dark. When they reached the traffic rushing before the Spanish Steps, the man whisper...
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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