ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. 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. Sir John hesitated. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. The moviegoers exited the cinema in the customary daze that resulted from two hours of sensory bombardment.
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