73 < 10 > AT HOME, 1982 Lucy woke up the next morning with Shari’s slow sonorous breathing only a few feet away. And, by way of checking his housekeeper's familiarity, he pointed significantly to the table. Did the other girls thank you?” “Not really. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. 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.
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