"You see?" Ruth said. She passed down the stairs and into the street. 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. "That would be certain destruction. One OUGHT to want to please her. Then fury claimed her and she could no longer pretend. \" She tended to watch television very infrequently.
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