"I give you one minute for reflection. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. 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. " But Spurlock put up his guard. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up.
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