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. Dinner was quite uneventful. Very gently indeed, Alderley grasped the handle of the door and stealthily turned it. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face.
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