At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. ” “Then condemn me to Hell. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. I've been thinking about it ever since morning. 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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