“Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. 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. But it was of no avail. Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned. ” “Don’t use such a word, my dear young lady,” Mr. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce.
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