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The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. 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. It was just upon the stroke of nine as he entered the Lodge, and Mr. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon her, “forty at the ‘Unusual,’ two turns, encores voluntary, six for matinées.
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