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Totally disregarding the pain, he picked up the nail, and reserved it for future use. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. 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. . You think you will.
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