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. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links. It shall never be said that I raised my arm willingly against a woman.
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