I asked her to marry me, and she consented. " "Ah! Did he tell you anything about himself?" "Aside from that, no. \" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. He had been quite right to sit down. 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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