" "I see," remarked Kneebone. ’ ‘So Charvill did tell him,’ Gerald said, once more staring into the hole in the wall. I do—with all my heart. That is what I don't understand. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. 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. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. .
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