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” She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face. But you——” Something seemed to catch his breath. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. 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. "I'd rather have given a thousand pounds than this had happened. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face.
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