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. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. "You are giving that chap the boot rather suddenly?" "Had to.
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