. 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. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. You have neither reason nor logic.
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