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. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice. When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat.
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