” “I don’t think it makes a rap of difference, except for one thing. " So there was always plenty of mail. I shan't drive a hard bargain. 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. But it was not so ordered.
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