" "You have extradition papers?" "What sort of a detective do you think I am?" countered O'Higgins. Gerald’s temper flared. 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. “And now let us leave the men alone and talk about ourselves. “I want some advice,” said Ann Veronica.
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