Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. 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. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up in some dudgeon. “Compromise—and kindness. ” Ann Veronica reflected for an instant “That’s why I think I ought to come.
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