His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. And, to show you that I have no intention of flying, I will myself close and lock the door. “It was best for me to know. 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. The touch of her hands was pleasurable.
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