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. Her name was Rhea. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. ’ ‘Very true.
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