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. 62 <8> A FIRST DATE WITH JOHN DIEDERMAYER The weekend began for her with that luxury of all luxuries, sleep. Finding all attempts at conversation with his companion in misfortune in vain, Wood, in order to distract his thoughts, looked up at the gigantic structure standing, like a wall of solid darkness, before him. When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone.
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