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. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. “Thank you. I said to myself, ‘this will come.
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