‘We were wondering about that. She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. But recently he had asked God to pile it all on him; and God had added this, with a fresh portion for Ruth. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. It clicked and the bookshelf was once more intact. 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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