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. At the first blow, Mrs. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. “The bravest of us have joints in our armour. That is quite as far as I mean to tempt Providence to-night.
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