" "Confusion!" thundered Wild. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me. Bring your liveralong?" "I sometimes wonder if I have any—if it isn't the hole where it was that aches. They almost made me feel like they were mine. 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. when I was five.
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