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. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. I have been thinking—I will go to my wife again. "I am come to render you a service.
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