Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. Sheppard, you mean, Sir," interrupted his wife, ironically. 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. They incubate and grow at phenomenal speed, their hunger is tenthousand times what our greatest hunger could ever be.
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