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 will have it now," rejoined Trenchard, "or our agreement is void. She ran away after she had divined that Gianfrancesco had remarried. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features.
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