She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. 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. ’ He turned to the goggling footman and thrust him towards the coach. She opened and read it at once. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets.
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