If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. ” Sydney looked at her doubtfully. 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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