"I shall go back and finish my supper," said Mrs. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. 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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