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. ” He said as Cathy took his coat and alternately handed him back his bouquet of red roses. ’ ‘This is what you say of him? Me, I find he is growling all the time like a dog.
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