Gerald frowned. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. 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. Wood had the advantage of her husband in point of years, being on the sunny side of forty,—a period pronounced by competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time, most critical epoch of woman's existence,—whereas, he was on the shady side of fifty,—a term of life not generally conceived to have any special recommendation in female eyes. Its parents have perished. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. It is really amusing. “Was it terrible for you after he died?” “Don’t worry yourself about it John.
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