The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. ‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding.
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