” “And the man stands as the master at the mouth of the den. 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. Not all of us, but some of us. "Would I had never seen either of you!" cried Jack, rising and pacing the apartment with a hurried step. ’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to have a mystery.
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