’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. There was no light in the room; but, notwithstanding this, the young man did not fail to detect the buxom figure of Mrs. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray.
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