Flee this House of Immodesty

You do not run, but you do turn away. The sounds from behind the cloth have grown louder – and lewder. A few servants are whispering amongst each other. You snatch more kahwe from a tray and wonder how much of this will filter back to Barenhaven, to mudrakers and to the gossip of Polite Society salons. Whatever the answer, your name will not be sullied.

The Demeter is close, and there is work to be done.