” She yelled back. . "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. We are nuns. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. 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. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. She awoke at 11:12 am, her foster sister snoring in the bed across the room. " "Don't mind us, Ma'am," said Mr.
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