"I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. 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 could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. ” She said. ” “Why?” Mr.
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