” She had forged birth certificates dating back to before anyone in the building had been born. 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. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious.
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