Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. "Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you. 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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