‘It is all the fault of that lantern. "Take care of yourself, then," rejoined Thames, doubling his fists, and advancing towards him: "though my right arm's stiff, I can use it, as you'll find. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. 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. These festivities, however, were not witnessed by the newly-married pair, who had departed immediately after the ceremony for Manchester.
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