CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. Do not mistake me. 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 rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped.
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