He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry. 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. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. Wood, at the top of her voice.
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