"Leave me alone with him a moment," said Jonathan. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. 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. I tried to have it out with him, but he wouldn’t have it out.
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