Diane replied, “Is there something wrong with that, Michelle? This is my house too, you know. You think you will. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs.
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