Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. I did not reckon upon—him. 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. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts.
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