‘You have rifled his papers. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. Wood, "and take your son with you. 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. ’ ‘Well, don’t bite my head off,’ protested Mrs Sindlesham, clearly amused.
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