A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. What was the matter with the dress? She could not see. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. He contrived to break off his sister's match; and this he accomplished so cleverly, that he maintained the strictest friendship with Sir Cecil. 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 was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out.
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