By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. We all have to kow-tow to that. ToC About an hour after this, Jack ventured to emerge from his place of concealment. 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. Now, you know where he is bound.
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