” “Is it necessary,” he said, “for me to tell you——” “Stop, please,” she said firmly. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is. 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. “It’s about forty pounds. ” Michelle said.
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