’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. 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. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. Supposing you take them and read them? You might be able to tell me why I felt disappointed. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip.
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