He made his speech a little elaborately. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. “I don’t understand. 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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