” “Is it very beautiful?” “When I saw it there it was very beautiful. Paris copies London. But you——” Something seemed to catch his breath. 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. I'll lay my life he's gone.
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