"Enough!" exclaimed Wild, triumphantly. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. " "Ah, yes. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. 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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