He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. “You would be wise to loosen your purse-strings, Gianfrancesco. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. I am. "I haven't worn anything else in weeks. I've destroyed my only chance.
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