The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. ” She pressed her ear to the door. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. It was among artistic people. 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.
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