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. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. 196 Succeeded where she had not. " "Where—where?" cried Thames. Anna said nothing. They cleaned up the mess as best they could and she went home with him docilely. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter.
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