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. . ” “The school orchestra?” “Nope. The storm burst upon them in its fury. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes.
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