Nothing could occupy her attention long today, unless it concerned her situation. 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. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. "Your master wants a few table-spoons, child," said Mrs. “Pray accept my apologies. ’ ‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly.
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