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. ’ The expression on Emile Gosse’s face was vicious under the smile. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him. . That is why I came to London.
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