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. I spied a small picture of them in your house, though. “You have not feeling enough. She doesn't understand; she believes he has taken a sudden dislike to her.
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