" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. I can vouch for that. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. 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. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. Can't I make you see?" "But I'm telling you Ruth loves you. " Internally, it was divided by two long galleries, one over the other. I was certain of it.
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