"Tomorrow I shall have a visitor. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. Save my seat. 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. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern.
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