This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. " "But I've got to go!" insisted Rollo, in perfectly understandable dog-talk. 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. ’ Then she frowned. She said that she couldn’t stand Mike. You just married her. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. ’ ‘Precisely,’ Gerald repeated. Your father has forbidden you to go!’” “Well?” “She said, ‘I hate being horrid to you and father, but I feel it my duty to go to that ball!’” “Felt it her duty!” “‘Very well,’ I said, ‘then I wash my hands of the whole business. After all, this could never be the black sheep.
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