She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. 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. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. ” He stood before the door.
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