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Unformatted text preview: , so obviously miserable, and seemingly incapable of moving, though he wanted to move. Yuri cast an eye around. He saw no gypsies, nor anyone who might be a gypsy. He saw no police. It would be no problem at all to help this poor man get off the streets and into some- place warm. He went up to the table. He said in English, "You're cold. Let me help you to a taxi. You can get a taxi up there by the Piazza di Spagna. You can go to your hotel." The man gazed at him as if he could not understand the English. Yuri bent down and put his hand on the man's shoulder. The man was feverish. The man's eyes were bloodshot. But what an interesting face he had. The bones of his face were very large, especially the cheek- bones, and the high lobes of the forehead. And how very fair was this man. Perhaps Yuri had been wrong, and this was a Swede or a Norwe- gian who did not understand English. But then the man said, "Little man," softly and smiled. "My little man." "I am a little man," said Yuri, squaring his shoulders. He gave a smile and a wink with his right eye. But in fact, a...
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- Spring '10