Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. 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. I must not let you go again. ’ ‘Ain’t you in a rage?’ asked the captain. Well might she do so, Gerald thought in irritation. Why should WE hoard? We aren’t going out presently, like Japanese lanterns in a gale. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. “I have come for an explanation,” she said. If he recovers he may not accuse her. Mrs. .
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