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. ‘For my money, you’ll not get much out of old Jarvis either. ” She smiled at him. ” “Then how have you managed?” “Bother!” said Ann Veronica to herself, and tried not to look guilty.
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