“Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I don’t understand this change in you. She let them fall and sped to the companion, where she stood for a moment, the moonlight giving her a celestial touch. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. In the beginning Ah Cum would run his glance speculatively over the assortment and select that individual who promised to be the most companionable. 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.
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