But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. " O'Higgins tore free the scarlet band of his perfecto, the end of which he bit off with strong white teeth, and smiled. 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.
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