" "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel. ” Lucy wanted badly to believe her. 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. " "Law! Miss," observed the maid, "there's nothing mischievous in the person's appearance, I'm sure. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. Think, ma’am.
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