You don’t understand. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. 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. But shurely I'd know that vice," he added, turning his lantern towards the janizary. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair.
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