ToC The heart-piercing scream uttered by Mrs. He cocked an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t. Half after six. 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. A shudder rippled across his shoulders.
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