She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor. I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, by the by. Her birthday was four months away, and that, at its extremist point, might give her another five pounds. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with 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. “Thank you,” she said coolly. He dropped the key on the counterpane. ‘But of course. .
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