"Well?" he whispered. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. “The man is dangerous. “Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. Their eyes met, and his expressed perplexity and curiosity. 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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