The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. " "Horror!" cried Jack. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. I don’t idealize you. It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years. 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.
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