She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. 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. With the immediate necessities in train, Melusine fell to brooding on her situation, which she found insupportable. Wood, contemptuously, "he'll never mend till he comes to Tyburn. I promised to put him in touch with some people in Rome, an idea which he warmed to. " So saying, he closed the lantern.
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