In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. She had never heard anything so unholy. "I'm afraid I must decline to tell you. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. "I have not told you half. 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. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me.
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