" So, after a time, encountering the blot, she herself would supply the word Faith. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. ‘So that’s true, is it?’ ‘Certainly it is true,’ Melusine said, opening her eyes wide. 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. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them.
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