“I trust,” he said, “that you will recognize the justice of these conditions. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. Jerking forward, she jabbed backwards. 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. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild.
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