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“He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. “Cool. O'Higgins returned to town and made a night of it, nothing very wild, nothing very desperate. 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. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. Spurling in alarm.
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