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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. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. Don’t be afraid that I shall stunt it. " "What faith is to be kept with a felon?" replied the woollen-draper, disdainfully.
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