“Goodnight. . Yet I think that he will do it. A broken laugh followed the action. It’s all nonsense. “Yes, I remember,” she said. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. ” “But how? It has only been a few days!” “She’s not even here. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. Very soon she would be able to forget 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. " "How had he offended you?" inquired the widow.
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