‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. 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. “To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. \"I had a good time tonight. . The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor.
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