‘I doubt it. But the love of life prevailed over his fears. There were so many things about her which he could not understand. 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. Where can I have heard it!" "Devil knows," rejoined Blueskin. That is my way, my dear. "Friday!" echoed Mrs.
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