” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. He thrust into her slowly at first, astonished at the natural amount of resistance and unexpected friction which nearly drove him to come instantaneously. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. ‘What do you want with me? Why did you catch me?’ ‘You intrigue me,’ he told her frankly. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. 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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