He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. 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. Oh dear!—oh dear! Be careful of him," she added to her husband, "and get it over quickly, or never expect to see me again.
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