” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. 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. “My dear Anna,” he answered. \" Lucy felt the familiar warmth surge upward from her crotch.
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