She answered him almost coldly. “Please have a seat. 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. For that worthless father of yours—’ Melusine let go the hand only so that she might throw her own hands in the air.
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