Her head snapped back as he grabbed her by the hair. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. .
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