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"Good bye!" cried Mrs. T. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. 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. “It has been a delightful evening for me. .
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