” “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, “I agree to that. I’d rather not go,” she added. "From Lady Trafford's, where I took the box. "It is never too late. " "That's the way it goes. I didn't mean it. 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. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession.
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