“I want you to kiss me,” she said. 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. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. It is so that I may marry an Englishman. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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