He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. ’ ‘What?’ Appalled, Gerald could only gaze at her. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. What you say is probably all true and necessary. ” Her answer was terse. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work.
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