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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. “I must repeat,” Sir John said, “that I much regret disturbing you at such an unseemly hour. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. And let ush go back to our brandewyn, and hollandsche genever.
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