“Very well,” he said, “I will go. Fly! fly!" "As soon as I can do so with safety, I will return, or send to you," said Jack. 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 that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. "There is nobody else. I think too much about myself. ‘Not yet, madame.
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