" By this time, the chair had been brought into the Lodge. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. 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. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated.
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