She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. " "Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done. 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 the indecision, which had been fatal to his race, was fatal to him.
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