’ ‘Because I was a servant in the vicomte’s house? Things have changed. You might even tire of me by then, you know. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. 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. She let Jack go as he passed through the opening.
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