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“May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. Later Gwen’s trouble weighed so heavily on Mrs. But I never seen Mr Charvill, and when the Frenchie come out, I followed him again, like you told me. She ignored it until it repeated itself. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. 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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