It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. Regardless as the gentry of the Mint usually were (for, indeed, they had become habituated from their frequent occurrence to such scenes,) of any outrages committed in their streets; deaf, as they had been, to the recent scuffle before Mrs. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. ” He frowned. 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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