“I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. 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 lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. ” “I haven’t told any one the amount,” he went on. “Please don’t,” she said. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased.
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