And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her. I’ve wanted you—always. She was shifting, moving back. 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. ‘Whereas my need was very great indeed. . ‘This was a picture of Mary Remenham that I have found today.
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