He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. "I shall be able to stretch my limbs presently—ha! ha!" "Hush!" cried Kneebone, "I hear a noise without. 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.
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