‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. “Does he know that I am involved with someone?” “Of course he knows. 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.
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