"No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. Sebastian snorted, “If it isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black!” “Your house is host to the lowest forms of life, those without morals! I will no longer allow my children to live 210 in such a house. She was my first love. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression.
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