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. ’ ‘I know,’ he said, smiling. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. Jack could hardly be accounted good-looking: Thames, on the contrary, was one of the handsomest boys possible. ” Or someone, she thought with disgust.
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