F. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. 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. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. Your maid has twenty minutes to pack your dressing case for one night, and you have the same time to change into a travelling dress.
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