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. Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. . Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night.
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