He scratched his upper lip reflectively. “Your arrival is really most opportune. " "Follow me, then," cried Thames, drawing his sword, and springing through the window. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. 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. They were terrible, horrible people.
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