" "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone. The guards, horse and foot, and constables formed a wide circle round it to keep off the mob. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. 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. Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair.
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