” “I feel so guilty. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. You must know that. 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. The boat in which he rode was not overset. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. ‘You cannot be always with me. Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. . Observe it—a blue-serge coat.
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