\"Sorry. She let Jack go as he passed through the opening. 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. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. It was the bitterest moment of her life. ” “I realize I can’t see my mom or brother again. As he looked around, he beheld an incessant stream of passengers hurrying on below. "Relating to the father of the boy—Thames Darrell," supplied Jonathan.
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