” “The real, identical other,” said Capes, and took and bit the tip of her little finger. The coconut plantation covered the west side. 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. . “Freedom! Citizenship! And the way to that—the way to everything—is the Vote. \" She looked at Mike.
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