Wood and several serving-men, all well armed, rushed into the room. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. "Good work. You must say farewell to her, for I cannot. 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. And two other ladies. . ’ ‘A mistake, I agree. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations.
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