His face was white. ” Her mind drifted into a speculation about her sister. " "Well!" remarked Jonathan, who had paid little attention to the latter part of the conversation: "this is an awkward business certainly: but we must do the best we can in it. 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 began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action.
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