Gay," he added, turning to the poet. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. . "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. 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.
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