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. ” Sebastian replied merrily, his eyes fixed on the road. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. Milice,’ Gerald translated.
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