“Nothing was ever done,” Miss Brett asserted, “without a certain element of Faith. “He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living,” she said. 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. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. "And now, farewell, Mr.
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