This is simply a chapter of coincidences. It was clear she wanted to get away from home, that she was impatient to get away from home. "What should I do here alone if I were an enemy? But, come, don't let us waste time in bandying words, when we might employ it so much more profitably. 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. You can pull it over on everybody else, Lucy, but not on me.
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