” “You would marry a divorcée?” she asked. There is worse to come. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. Everything was going to hell. 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. . Very well.
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