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. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs.
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