"Don't harm him," said Jack, carelessly: "he dares not do it. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. Ed. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. 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. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo.
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