” Manning tapped with his racket on the turf through some moments of silence. “Don’t!” she begged. 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. ” “Girls!” cried Ann Veronica. " "You were born on the island?" "I believe so.
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