He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. He would get very cross one evening and no one would dare to remind him of it. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. 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. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me.
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