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. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. ” He ran around his car and opened the door for her as she desperately tried to view out of the corner of her eye the man sitting silently in the squad car.
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