“They would spoil every chance. " "Don't say so," cried Mrs. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. ” “You don’t. 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. CHAPTER XV.
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