Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. His brows drew a little nearer together. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. "Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same.
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