"But she is a dear," said Angelina, timidly. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. " Spurlock obeyed mechanically. 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. ’ ‘You were quite as bad to me as I was to you,’ Gerald protested mildly, sitting down beside her. "I yield to fate.
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