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. “Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing. “I may as well come up by this train. ‘Precisely. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her.
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