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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 sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. “Well, you know. ’ ‘Did I so?’ Gerald said, amused. But men are often blind to rings. White’s,” she said, “and if he is going to persist in this delusion, we cannot both remain here.
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