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. I find it impossible to associate you with—my little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s. "I am quite easy now; receive my blessing, my dear son; and if we never meet again, rest assured my last prayer shall be for you. \"I'll have to ask Cathy, you know my foster mother? I have not been asked on a date before. If only we are not divided. Do sit down, dear boy.
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