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 said. They don’t now. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. She must not show anything. . The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience.
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