Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. 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. ‘And you!’ shrieked Melusine. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. “All your dreadful scientific things?” he said, with a smile that Miss Klegg thought extraordinarily kindly. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. I've just left your nephew. I am with you through thick and thin, Nigel. "Oh, easily enough," rejoined the other.
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