" "Doubt me not," replied Thames. "Where are the boys?" "In the hall. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. Cathy opened her beauty shop, you know. 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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