" Here Ruth returned with the broth; and McClintock strode aft, convinced that he was going to have something far more interesting than books to read. 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. ” He shook his head slowly, smiling mysteriously.
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